The Peace of My Years
by Rap541
Summary: Cowritten with IngridMatthews. A tale of love and danger under the Cylon occupation! Viva La Resistance!
1. Chapter 1

The mission was going badly, Dualla thought as she carefully made her way down the thoroughfare of the planet's only town. She was surprised at how many people were there, walking about the various shops. It wasn't a good sign, not really. Neither were the obvious improvements in the town. She remembered the town being dirtier for starters and there had been more tents and fewer permanent buildings.

And the people… they looked, not happy, but not entirely unhappy either. That would be a problem.

As would the fact that her companion for the mission, Lt. Harrison Slade, was already dead, killed when their Raptor had crashed. They were supposed to have landed outside the town, and look for sorely needed pilots that had been left planetside. Pilots, and anyone else with useful skills. With Slade dead, she **had **to find at least one pilot or else she was going to be stuck there.

The plan was really quite simple. They needed the military personnel that had been left on New Caprica. The battlestars needed them desperately, so desperately that Lee was willing to risk losing a Raptor and two people on the chance that they could retrieve the needed people. He had kept the plan a secret from even his father. It was risky, and the old man was likely to say no if he had known what they were planning. Worse, Lee had wanted to go, but Dualla had convinced him to send her. Lee sometimes forgot that he was almost instantly recognizable because of his position. The problem was twofold. They didn't know where the military people were, and worse, the military people didn't know where **they** were. She had been chosen to go because she knew the vast majority of the pilots on sight. She also knew any number of the Galactica's personnel that would be helpful in getting the ships back into shape.

The problem was that she wasn't seeing any of those familiar faces. She spotted a few civilians she had known, people that had worked with Roslin for the most part, but she didn't make eye contact. The civilians were not the mission, not yet. The battlestars were barely functioning with skeleton crews. Rescuing civilians had to wait until they could man the ships for a fight.

Still, the general state of the colony surprised and worried her. It especially worried her to see how casually Cylons stood and moved about in the crowd. There weren't a lot of the human appearing ones, she only spotted one of the Sharon models, but the metallic centurions seemed to be all around. It shocked her to see Centurions lifting boxes of supplies for humans, standing quietly while the humans did their business. She knew she was gaping but it was just so bizarre to see.

"Don't stare," a man's voice muttered. She felt her arm being pulled and followed in that direction, not looking up until they had moved well away. She knew that gravelly voice well enough to trust it, and a quick glance confirmed it. Colonel Saul Tigh looked grim and haggard as he pulled her through the small crowds. Finally, he led her into a quiet alley that seemed to be private. " What in the name of the gods are you doing here, Dee?"

"Looking for as many pilots and crew as I can find," she said easily. Tigh didn't smell of alcohol, which was a change.

He looked at her intently. " To take back to the Galactica?" She nodded, relieved that he understood so quickly. Still, he was hardly looking excited or pleased. In fact, he seemed almost sad. " You're not going to find anyone here. Most of us are either dead or off in the hills playing at war, or in the punishment camp." He took off his hat and handed it to her. " Put this on and keep your head down. You don't have an ID card and they'll put you in the punishment camp for that. We need to get you someplace safe… I'd take you to my quarters but Ellen…" The older man seemed to consider something. " I have an idea."

Felix Gaeta could feel his hands shake as he resealed the orders. The orders were assignments to work patrols and he had surreptitiously changed one of the assignments so that someone needed on the outside, Jammer, one of the chief's old crew, would have the opportunity to run.

He had gotten very good at forging Dr. Baltar's signature. He had also gotten very good at opening sealed orders and resealing them. He supposed that it appealed to his tendency towards detail. Stop shaking, he told himself as he returned the orders to the file on the president's desk, it's over now.

Except, of course, for the next few days of waiting for the alarm to sound and the interrogations to begin. Eventually he was going to be caught, he understood that more than anyone else. Then he would be taken over to the punishment camp as a participant instead of a horrified observer. Sometimes he wished it would happen, just so he could be done with the whole business.

Gaeta made his way out of the president's office. He hated it on the Colonial One, he always had. He had quarters off the ship now, slightly better than a wooden shack but private, and now that the last illicit chore of the day was done, he was going to head home, throw up for an hour, and try to sleep.

Sleep hadn't come easy for a long time, and neither had keeping down food. The rations had improved since the Cylons came, but his stomach was always rolling with acid. Like now. He detoured to one of the public restrooms on the grounded ship, and found an empty stall. The nausea was almost constant and had been so since the occupation began. He gagged and then threw up a small stream of bile. No blood, he thought with both relief and disappointment.

"You know, you really should see a doctor," a voice said above him. Gaeta jumped and then looked up. It was Baltar, and for a change, the man was sober. He seemed faintly disgusted at the sight of his aide and ex-military attaché shivering on the bathroom floor. " It hasn't escaped my attention that you've hardly been well these past few weeks."

"There's no doctor to see," Gaeta said easily. Cottle has fled the first night of the occupation, along with most of the military personnel. They were out in the hills and caves and the Cylon occupation forces were expending a large amount of energy to find them. He knew that because he had almost gone with them that night, until Kara Thrace had suggested that he stay. We'll get you out eventually, but you can do us more good on the inside, next to Baltar, she had said.

Because he was highly placed and having a spy in the center of things was a good idea.

Because he deserved it, was unsaid. He didn't deserve to be free, fighting and perhaps dying on his feet. He deserved the role of spy, stuck behind enemy lines, always watching over his shoulder and never knowing when the ax would fall. He was to blame and staying behind was the only thing he could do to wash the blood off his hands. He only hoped that it would be enough.

Baltar eyed him. " We have doctors. Don't tell me you subscribe to the silly prejudices of the masses." He sniffed derisively. " I thought better of you than that, Felix."

"I'm not sick," Gaeta muttered as he rose to his feet. " I don't… I don't like how harshly some of the rules are enforced. I understand the **need** for the rules. But…" He shuddered. For the vast majority of the remaining citizens of New Caprica, the arrival of the Cylons had brought a distinct improvement in the quality of their lives. There **were** doctors, Cylons of course, and medicines brought from the old colonies, and more food and supplies than any of them had seen since the attack. But for the rebellious and outspoken, and for the token few chosen as tribute for medical experiments, there was the punishment camp.

The Cylons were artists at making painful examples.

Much to his surprise, Baltar nodded. " You're a sensitive man, Felix. I knew that the first day we met. What you need to remember is that these people have had the very same opportunities you've had to be happy here. The Cylons don't **want **to be unpleasant but troublemakers, like for example those rebels that were caught the other night by that downed Raptor, have to be dealt with."

Which meant torture and permanent crippling injuries if they weren't executed in the public square. Gaeta didn't know who the three people that had been caught were, not yet, but they were probably people he knew. As the president's senior aide, he would have to witness some of the interrogations, in order to make reports. Sometimes he wished he really was just a collaborating drone, like he heard down in the market when he ventured out in public. But he wasn't, and while he knew he was throwing up today over worry about being caught collaborating with the rebels, tomorrow it would be over getting sprayed with blood while someone he knew was skinned alive as punishment for wanting to be free.

"Now," Baltar said brightly, "I think you do need to see a doctor, and I want you to do that tomorrow. I'll clear it with Number Three at the punishment camp. I'm sure that you can be spared."

"It's really not necessary," Gaeta said worriedly. He was able to put up a good facade in public, but going into an exam room with one of the Cylons…. He almost preferred watching an execution.

"I'll make the appointment and you'll report to my office tomorrow first thing." Baltar smiled, and Gaeta was suddenly reminded of how he used to like the man. Before he realized what an absolute monster lived behind that smile. " I can't afford to lose you, Felix. You help make this whole little society we're building work." With that he strode out of the bathroom.

Gaeta mentally counted to one hundred before he allowed himself to throw up again. When he was finally done, he made his way to the exit. He rarely contacted the resistance. It was risky as hell for him, but Kara needed to know that the dumb stunt with the Raptor was going to cost her.

It was cold on the narrow wooden porch of the small cottage that Colonel Tigh had left her at. He had given her a quick rundown of the basic situation, not that it was very useful to her. Colonel Tigh had been… anxious to part from her, she could tell. He was afraid, not so much for himself, that she could tell as well, but for his wife who he had left alone. Apparently one of the new rules involved alcohol consumption and Ellen had difficulty following along with the new regime. Which meant that Tigh had a problem as well.

Lt. Gaeta will hide you, he had promised, I know you two were friends and I'll give the kid credit, he doesn't forget his friends. Tigh hadn't said much more than that, except to warn her not to wander around, that she wouldn't be molested if she stayed on the porch. It would be assumed that Gaeta had her there for a reason. It surprised her on a number of levels but she kept that quiet from Tigh.

She was surprised that Tigh was on good terms with Gaeta. They hadn't been. In fact, Tigh had spent the two months that Gaeta had remained on the Galactica making the younger man's life a living hell. Bad assignments, public admonishments, verbal abuse for the slightest thing, Gaeta had been frustrated and depressed. She had considered going to Lee and seeing if he could somehow convince his father to allow Gaeta to transfer to the Pegasus. That would have been awkward, Lee had a tendency to get jealous but she thought she could have swung it if Gaeta had been willing. Clearly Tigh and Gaeta had made up in some fashion.

She was surprised that Gaeta had never mentioned his falling out with her to Tigh. Of course, Colonel Tigh probably wasn't a confidant of Felix's. She regretted it, of course. She even understood it a bit after spending six months as an officer, and ten months living on the Pegasus with Lee Adama. Felix was a friend, and he had gritted his teeth and borne Tigh's abuse, unfair as it was. As much as she didn't want Baltar in charge of things, she couldn't argue that the majority of the people had been happy.

She also couldn't argue that Lt. Felix Gaeta hadn't destroyed what was left of his career in the military. It had been a bitter argument.

"You know the admiral will get over it," she had argued. " You don't have to take this assignment. I can talk to Lee… You know that the admiral would change his mind about the transfer if Lee requests you." That would take some convincing, probably some convincing in bed considering how surprisingly touchy he often was about her male friends.

It had surprised her, just how broken Felix had looked as he continued to pack his gear. He had stopped packing then, and looked at her with hurt eyes. " Dee, I don't want… I don't want you to do that. It's over. Here or the Pegasus… it's going to be the same. I've been blackballed. Besides, both the Pegasus and the Galactica are being required to cut staff. I'm going to end up planet side one way or another. I might as well go where I'm wanted." He had returned to his packing.

"Dr. Baltar only wants you as his military advisor so he can use you and take all the credit," she had warned.

"Yes." He neatly folded a uniform. "But at least he'll use me to do interesting things, which I am no longer considered trustworthy enough to do here." The fierceness in which he shoved the folded clothes into the pack was at odds with his calm voice. "Isn't that a laugh? I told the truth, and now I can't be trusted. Your boyfriend Lee can put a gun to the colonel's head and lead a mutiny, and I think he got promoted for it. And you…." He took a deep breath and then let it out.

"Go ahead and finish that thought," she had said darkly.

"You broke the law. You disobeyed orders, and I'm the one being punished while you get rewarded by the admiral for your loyalty in helping try to turn what's left of our society into a dictatorship." He had snarled the last part. " Look at you. The entire military is being downsized and not only are you getting a transfer to your boyfriend's ship, but the admiral tapped you for officer candidacy? Was that your **punishment **for election fraud? Or did someone finally remind Lee that he's not supposed to be frakking a petty officer?"

She had stormed out of his quarters at that point. They hadn't really spoken since, not as friends. She had regretted it. Felix had been a mentor, and a friend, a good one, and she had realized as the time and separation had worn on, that he had been right on a few things. Dr. Baltar had trusted him, and respected him, and given him interesting responsibilities and as much as Admiral Adama had her respect on many issues, she knew in her heart that he never would have stepped in and stopped Tigh's petty behavior in assigning Gaeta to things like supervising the latrine workers.

She was good at her work, on the Pegasus she did the same job that Gaeta had done, and he was right. She had been promoted as a favor to Lee and possibly as a consolation prize, not because she was excellent. She did the job well, but she was no fool. Felix had done it better and had brought more academic background to it as well. From hard learned experience when the Cylons returned and since, they had realized that none of the new watch officers could calculate FTL jumps on the fly. Gaeta was on her list of useful people to bring back, if he could be found.

But… Tigh was right. Felix wasn't one to hold grudges or forget his friends. Unless of course, he had been subverted by the Cylons. She hadn't specifically asked Tigh about that possibility, but it crossed her mind that unlike most of the ex-military people, Gaeta had stayed. Which was a concern for the mission. She hated to think that way, but she had to. There was too much risk. Felix was clearly living better than the average citizen of New Caprica. There had to be a reason why.

The sun set quickly and she was surprised to see the residential street empty. She was also surprised to see electric lights in all of the homes. Tigh had explained that it was one of the more affluent areas of the town, loaded with government workers. Felix's house was dark, and smaller than the others, and his tiny porch lacked the homey decorations of the others. It surprised her a bit, he was the sort that could turn even a rack into a pleasant oasis. Home is where you are, he had told her once when she had asked why he took such pains, you should at least be comfortable.

There weren't any streetlights, although she did see the red bobbing of Centurions in the distance. There must be a curfew, she thought as she sat down on the porch steps. She hoped that Tigh was right about it being safe as long as she stayed on the porch but as she watched, she could see a few other people in backyards. Apparently the rule was to be off the street but being outside in a fenced yard was all right. They certainly aren't monstrously cruel overlords, she thought as she listened to some children playing. The fact that the cage was reasonably pleasant was going to make it harder to get people to leave.

Finally she spotted someone trudging down the street. It was Felix Gaeta, she recognized his walk, if not the weather beaten jacket he had pulled around himself, and he seemed lost in thought as he moved. He didn't even notice her until he stepped onto the porch itself. His eyes widened with surprise and shock as she stood. " Dee?" he said hesitantly, "Thank the gods you're alive but… what are you doing here? No, " he held up his hand as she opened her mouth, his surprise turning into fear, " don't say anything. I have neighbors… voices carry." He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. She returned it, realizing in an instant just how much she had missed him. He whispered in her ear, " We have to go inside… If you're caught here, they will kill you."

"I have a mission," she whispered back as he led her to the door. He waved her silent and pushed her inside. She wasn't surprised that he also had electric lights but his quarters surprised her. His little house was dismally bare. She could see a doorway that led to a tiny kitchen, and another that was a bedroom judging by the unmade bed she spotted. The living room was essentially bare, with a table that was clearly being used as desk space and two hard chairs. The only sop to comfort or to Gaeta's personality at all was a bookcase that seemed to have been built out of construction supplies filled with books and photos with a small rug and some pillows in front of it. Otherwise there was nothing. The walls were essentially unfinished framing and over all it had the appearance of being half complete. "Nice place."

He shrugged as he took off his jacket and hung it on a peg. " It's private. I don't have a wife, or children, so I don't need furniture. I have heat, light, and running water." He started to close the curtains, which looked like they were made out of the cheap fabric used for prisoner jump suits. He sighed as he looked at her, and in the bright light, she could see that the invasion had taken its toll on him. He was too thin, and pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His neatness remained intact, in fact his hands looked chapped from scrubbing too hard, and there was no mistaking his military bearing even in civilian clothes, but at the same time he looked… beaten down. Weighed down by worries.

"Dee, if you're caught…" He put a hand to his head, as if it hurt to think. When he spoke, it was obviously more to himself than to her. "The Raptor… you came in that Raptor… " His expression hardened. " Damn it."

"The mission is pretty straightforward," she began, but again he held up a hand to stop her from speaking.

"I am going to let you hide here, because we were friends and I don't want to see you die by torture," Gaeta said coldly, " And I assure you, you will die by torture if you're found within the town perimeter, as will I if you're found here without an ID or pass. Do not tell me what the mission is. I can't afford that level of risk. Everyone that rebelled is either dead or locked up and I am not going to join them over a mission that's doomed. This town is as much of a prison as the Astral Queen. You got in because they don't watch for people coming in, but they do watch for people going out. There's no way out. A lot of people have died trying."

She opened her mouth to say something. And then closed it. Felix Gaeta had never been much of a bluffer. His honest nature always seemed to queer the deal, which was why he hadn't even been considered for inclusion in the election fraud scheme. He wasn't lying. Tigh had hinted that the town was locked down, and Gaeta was confirming it. And underneath his cold facade, his trembling body gave away more than he was telling. He was terrified. Terrified and broken. A broken dog, her father had warned her as a child, will lick the hand of the person who broke him.

And while it saddened her, it also made Felix very dangerous to her.


	2. Chapter 2

0o0o0o

For the first time, Gaeta regretted the lack of pains he'd taken with his  
home, especially in regard to his bedraggled sleep area. He had to scrounge  
for extra linens to cover the bed, not listening to Dee's protests when he  
made himself a nest on the floor near the window, telling her it was for  
lookout purposes. He was the lighter sleeper he told her, better for hearing  
trouble coming and there must have been enough residual authority left in  
his voice from his days aboard the Galactica for her to drop the  
subject.

He could feel her eyes on him while he attempted to pull together a meal for  
two -- instant soup rations and the dry biscuits he was able to choke down  
on occasion -- but he tried his best to act nonchalant about it, not to let  
her see how much her presence was affecting him -- and why.

Gods, he never thought he'd see her again. At least outside of his nightly  
dreams, but now ...

"Do you want butter with your biscuits?" he asked quickly, pushing those  
thoughts brutally aside. This certainly was no time for foolish daydreaming;  
there was far too much at stake. "It's not really butter, I suppose, but  
that's what we call it around here."

"No, thanks," she replied, her eyes still trained on him. Her expression was  
a mixture of concern and suspicion and Gaeta didn't blame her for either.  
Gone was that look of easy-going affection they'd once shared, but after how  
they'd left off after the election and his subsequent banishment to this  
hole, he couldn't expect things to be as they were. Or as he'd once hoped  
they'd be.

"So what's it like working for the President?" she asked.

Gaeta's hand paused mid-stir and he shrugged. "Not that much different than  
working aboard Galactica. I do what I'm told and I get to live  
another day. Simple as that."

Dee frowned and Gaeta had to turn away, so not to see her dark  
disappointment. "I've heard rumors that Baltar is actively working with the  
Cylons, facilitating their tactics, encouraging them even. Is this  
true?"

"Is this an interrogation?" Gaeta asked dryly. "Because I can always walk  
over to the punishment camp and get one there."

Dee started a little. She quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, I just  
.."

"Felix. It hasn't been 'sir' for a long time, Dee. Or, if anything, perhaps  
I should call you 'sir'. How is your new position working out?"

Dee laughed, but it was a short, bitter sound, which surprised him. "Like a  
security guard at a cemetery. And the uniform itches. You never told me  
about that."

Gaeta handed her a bowl of soup, with a biscuit parked precariously on the  
plate's rim. He sat down on the floor across from her, cross-legged and  
pretended to sip at his own soup, even though the very smell of it nauseated  
him. "You'll get used to it. If there's one thing I learned in the military  
it's that you can get used to anything if you have to."

"I guess," she replied quietly, playing with her spoon and looking about as  
hungry as Gaeta felt. She seemed so tense and for a second, he saw the Dee  
he once knew, the sweet young reservist who wanted to do her best, but  
wasn't always confident in her abilities. The sight nearly broke his heart,  
especially when she said: "Felix, I really need your help. I thought I could  
do this - I wanted to do this as an officer - but now that I'm here,  
I think I might be over my head. Lee felt confident I could do it, but ..."

"I told you I don't want to hear about it," Gaeta interjected, his jaw  
tight, hoping desperately she couldn't see the anguish her plea caused him.  
He would easily die to help her, but covertly assisting in the rebellion was  
simply more important than whatever cockeyed 'mission' his old superiors  
were interested in completing. If Lee Adama was an actual commander, he  
should have sent teams first to access the situation before allowing an  
inexperienced junior "officer", no matter how stubborn -- and Gaeta knew Dee  
could be stubborn -- to pluck pilots off-world and back to the battlestars.

Ridiculous, really. As if the Cylons were that stupid. Like a rat trap,  
entering New Caprica was easy, but you left only when laid out in a box.  
Unless he helped her ... but how?

Dee's lips pressed into a thin line. She put down her untouched soup. "I  
see."

"You can hide out here as long as you need to." Gaeta's hands shook as he  
put down his dinner, glad to get the stuff away before he threw up all over  
it. "Beyond that, there's nothing I can do."

There was silence then, long, tortured minutes of it. "I wish I knew what  
happened to you, Felix," she said sadly. "The officer I once knew would have  
done the right thing. I can't imagine what's changed you so much."

"I could say the same thing to you," Gaeta replied, gathering up the plates  
and scraping them before putting them in a small wash bucket. "But I think I  
know the answer to that." He almost added "Lee Adama" to the end of that  
sentence, but caught himself before he did. If anything would make Dee storm  
from the house in a pique and get herself killed, that probably would be it.

It was ridiculously easy to get killed on New Caprica. If she were found in  
the house with him, it would end slowly for him, as their Cylon occupiers  
were almost obscenely fascinated with the extent they could make human  
beings suffer for their sins. After the torture would be a very public, very  
gory execution, as a warning to anyone else harboring ideas of rebellion or  
escape.

Obviously, Dee had no idea what kind of viper's nest she'd stepped into. Not  
the slightest clue.

Still, her disappointment stung. Especially as it was undeserved, but he  
knew the importance of keeping his cover, even to her. It was safer that  
way, for both of them, for Gods forbid she were caught and interrogated, she  
couldn't divulge something she didn't know.

Dee sighed, obviously resigned. "I suppose there's not much more I can do  
this evening."

"No, you can't. It's better we turn the lights out anyway, in case they've  
been keeping track of when I usually turn in," Gaeta said, glancing at his  
chrono. "Like most computers, they're good at the mundane details." He  
pulled aside a curtain and peered outside. No Centurions nearby, but there  
was a Six model across the way, looking strangely out of place in her  
glamorous clothing and perfectly coifed blond hair, a beautiful woman  
standing in the middle of the dark and empty street.

Her appearance didn't fool him, however. He'd seen enough of that model in  
action to know it was a ruthless killing machine, almost sadistic in the  
pleasure she took in torturing and executing the hapless humans who refused  
to fall into line with the Cylon Peace Agenda.

All he could do was pray that he ... and Dee, gods, his poor Dee ...  
wouldn't end up being one of them.

Nervously, he reached over and clicked off the lamp. Darkness immediately  
covered the room, with just enough light coming in from outside to let Dee  
settle into the bed. He thought about wishing her a 'good night', but  
sighing, Gaeta silently crawled beneath the blanket on the floor, resting  
his head on his arm. Sleep was as likely to come as a fleet of battlestars  
and tomorrow he had little to look forward to except a visit to a Cylon  
'doctor' who as likely kill him as cure him, if it became suspicious enough  
to start questioning him.

He took some small comfort in listening to Dee's breathing turn slow and  
steady indicating she'd fallen asleep. At least she'd be safe for one night,  
he thought. Vaguely he wondered what in hells Lee was thinking by letting  
her come down here, how any man who claimed to love a woman would allow her  
to enter into such a volatile situation by herself, but Gaeta shook away  
that train of thought.

Their relationship was none of his business. Dualla had made her choice and  
Gaeta hadn't been it, even though he would have locked her in a storage room  
before letting her run headlong into such danger.

He shut his eyes. Gods, what a damned fool he was. A fool for being honest  
at the wrong time, for not speaking out when he had the chance, for not even  
trying to tell Dee how he felt -- he had no one to blame but himself.

And now he was going to pay the price for his mistakes, perhaps with his  
life.

The least he could do was make sure Dee wouldn't pay with hers.

0o0o0o

The morning came as it always did on New Caprica, with a gray sky and  
morning prayers to the Cylon God blasting over loudspeakers all over camp.

Some people, perhaps hoping to curry favor with their occupiers, made a show  
of publicly praying along with the Cylons, but most stayed inside their  
houses, stubbornly refusing to come out until the spectacle was over. It  
only last a few moments, but it was as good as any alarm clock and Gaeta  
rubbed his aching eyes before sitting up, wincing at the stiffness in his  
back and shoulders.

There was a strange smell coming from the kitchen and Gaeta jumped up,  
thinking he'd left something on overnight. He was relieved when Dee walked  
out carrying two steaming mugs filled with hot coffee.

"I hope you don't mind, but I had trouble staying asleep, so I helped  
myself," she said, handing him a mug.

Gaeta accepted it with a nod of thanks. "Are you kidding? This is the  
highlight of my year. Was there actually coffee in there? I don't remember  
storing any."

"In the freezer," she replied. She tilted her head to one side, peering at  
him. "There are a whole batch of frozen rations that are untouched. It seems  
you haven't been doing a lot of cooking." She reached out and ran a hand  
down his decidedly thinner arm. "Or eating, from the looks of it."

He flushed with embarrassment and wrapped his hands around the mug,  
appreciating its warmth. "It's ... sort of stressful around here," he  
admitted reluctantly. "I don't have much of an appetite." Hesitantly, as the  
less Dee knew, the better. Even about his personal situation. "Speaking of  
food, feel free to help yourself to anything that's in there. I'm sure  
you'll have better luck than I would of making it edible."

She glanced down. "Felix, I appreciate the hospitality, but if you can't  
help me ..."

"Help you snag pilots for shipment back to the fleet?" he sighed. "To help  
in the takeover effort from above?"

Dee gaped at him. "How did you ..."

"Guess those years I spent training as a tactician were good for something,  
huh?" Gaeta interrupted. "Your plan is very textbook, very officer-like,  
which is precisely why it's not going to work. The Cylons have made it so  
that any protocol-based thinking isn't going to fly in this situation. I'm  
surprised the Admiral didn't realize this and authorized such a mission  
anyway."

"Um, he didn't authorize it, not at this time anyway. Lee was the one who  
wanted to get this done right away," she replied, looking somewhat abashed.  
"It was sort of on the sly, as Lee thought his father was taking too long  
and since he couldn't abandon his command of the Pegasus, I  
volunteered to do it for him. He was very hesitant at first, but I insisted.  
Besides, it had to be done. There aren't a lot of people left aboard the  
fleet who'd know the personnel by face anyway."

"Ah." Gaeta nodded knowingly. "That explains a lot."

"Lee's been very ... impatient to get his pilots back," she said, scratching  
her thumbnail along the coffee mug's side. "Especially Starbuck." Somewhat  
bitterly said, and Dee took a vicious swig of coffee, swallowing it grimly.  
"Is she still around?"

Gaeta blinked. Starbuck. Suddenly the pieces were tumbling into place, with  
a solution possibly presenting itself. "No idea," he lied with a shrug. "All  
I can say is I hope not, as she's a wanted felon."

"Wanted felon?"

"Yep, for the crime of rebellion, along with most of the pilots. If rumors'  
to be believed they've taken to the far hills and if they return, they'll be  
interrogated and likely executed. So I hope they don't come back, for their  
sakes."

"And you'd go along with this?" she said, her eyes narrowing. "With torture?  
With injustice? With the murder of your crew mates by the Cylons?"

He shrugged again, his throat tight. "I just follow the rules, I don't make  
them."

"Even when they're that ... that ... insane? By the gods, Felix ..."

"I like staying alive." As coldly as he could muster, and gods, it hurt to  
see the disgust in her eyes. "Is that such a crime? I don't go out of my way  
to report anyone, but I'm not going to be an idiot either. If these are the  
rules the Cylons want kept and they have the muscle to back it up, who am to  
argue?"

"Who, indeed?" Dee glared at him. "You know, Felix, maybe the Admiral was  
right about you after all -- you're a little too in love with the rules for  
your own good. As well as the good of everyone else."

Now that hurt. Gaeta pulled himself up and reached for his jacket.  
"If you're smart and interested in living, you'll stay here. I'll see what I  
can do about this ... situation. But I'm warning you, if you think you'll be  
able to go traipsing around town without ending up in the punishment  
barracks, you'll be sadly mistaken. And once you're in there, I can't help  
you."

"Can't or won't?" she asked sharply. She waved him off with a  
dismissive gesture. "Don't answer that, I'm pretty sure I know which one it  
is."

"Stay away from the windows," he ordered quietly from beneath the door  
frame, which he held onto with whitened knuckles. "I'll be back this  
evening. I ... " He paused, before letting his voice trail away entirely.

She didn't say anything else.

He left the house on leaden legs. The coffee churned in his stomach, but he  
slogged on toward Colonial One without glancing back. Every nightmare he'd  
ever had since the day of the holocaust seemed to be coming true. He was  
unable to fight, except in the most menial ways, unable to run with a clear  
conscience -- even unable to die with dignity. Too many people needed him,  
even Dee, who now was part of that nightmare, despising him as a coward  
while he ...

He shook his head. He couldn't think about this right now. Later, he'd think  
it about it then.

Or else lose his mind completely.

0o0o0o

"I'm concerned with your appearance, Mr. Gaeta." The large, black skinned  
Cylon male looked at him intently. " I want you to wait here in the exam  
room while I run some tests. Don't get dressed. I may want a specialist to  
examine you." The Cylon took the various blood samples he had drawn with  
him.

This is bad, Felix thought as he sat on the exam table, wearing nothing but  
boxer shorts. He couldn't kid himself about faking it through a medical  
exam. There were a lot of things that, over the last few months, he had  
excused as stress. The way the Cylon looked at him though, he had the sudden  
cold fear that he just might be sick. Really sick, and not just stressed.

Of course, it didn't help that his stress levels were through the roof. Just  
the very fact that he knew that Anastasia Dualla was at his house was making  
his hands shake, and his stomach roll. It was a good thing he had left the  
house with nothing but a cup of coffee in his stomach, that he had spewed  
into a drainage ditch before presenting himself at Baltar's office.  
Otherwise he probably would have vomited when the Cylon had touched him.

Which wasn't truly fair to the Cylon. He didn't get to work with the model  
who examined him very often. Number Five was one of the male Cylons, but  
like many of the Cylons, it had a human name as well, no doubt to try and  
make humans feel more comfortable. Dr. Simon, the Cylon had called himself,  
and to be perfectly fair, it had been quite gentle with the blood drawing  
and the exam. The clinic was also quite nice. The equipment was modern and  
new. Hardly the horror show that the punishment camp was, but he didn't let  
it lull him into complacency. It was pleasant for a reason, to mislead and  
pacify. The Cylons insisted that they wanted to preserve the remnants of  
humanity and he knew from his work that medical care had improved a lot,  
much the way the food and housing situation had improved.

Still, if Dr. Simon had been a human being, his expression would have  
indicated a serious problem. A real illness, a serious one… it would just be  
the icing on the cake for him. Maybe it's cancer, he thought darkly, maybe I  
can just die slowly and unpleasantly from that. No need for the electric  
cattle prod games that some of the Number Threes, and Sixes, amongst others,  
liked to play.

Dr. Simon came back in, carrying charts and medical equipment. " I want you  
to lie down on the exam table, Mr. Gaeta. Another doctor will join us in a  
few minutes but I'd like to get this started as soon as possible."

"Get what started?" Gaeta said nervously. He didn't lie down. He was  
President Baltar's aide after all, and that meant that the courtesy of  
explanations was usually extended. Usually. " Is there something wrong?"

" Fortunately," Simon said as he began unwrapping more alcohol wipes, "  
there's nothing serious wrong, yet. But you aren't well, and that needs to  
be dealt with before there's any permanent damage." The Cylon looked at him  
intently. " You're underweight, and malnourished, and your blood sugar is so  
low, I don't really understand how you haven't fainted. I am going to give  
you an intravenous drip of glucose, and nutrients. I want you to lie down  
because you look very tired, and I've had human patients pass out in these  
circumstances before. There's no need to add insult to injury. Now would you  
please lie down?"

He did as he was told, trying not to react to the sting of the needle in his  
arm. He didn't like the idea of accepting medical care from a Cylon, but he  
was the president's aide. It would seem suspicious if he refused. " Is this  
going to take long? I do have work."

" Dr. Baltar agreed to let us have you for the morning, longer if  
necessary." Simon looked down at him. " Dr. Baltar was quite concerned. He  
said he found you vomiting yesterday, and it hadn't been the first time he  
had noticed it. Has this been happening a lot?"

Felix considered lying but only for a moment. It was true, and lying would  
only make the Cylon suspicious. " Lately it's been every day. Everything I  
eat seems to make me nauseous."

Simon made some notes. " The malnutrition most likely began during the time  
the fleet was running from us, and the tests indicate you have several  
stomach ulcers. Those are usually caused by a bacterial infection, which you  
were open for since your immune system was already weakened. It's a vicious  
cycle because the vomiting makes the malnutrition problem worse, which makes  
your immune system worse." The Cylon paused. " You're not the first I've  
seen with this sort of health problem. What we need to do is stop the  
cycle." He began writing down more notes in his file. " The IV is to get you  
out of the immediate danger zone. You should be feeling the sedative any  
time now."

" What? What sedative?" But suddenly, he felt a wave of exhaustion seem to  
roll over him. It felt like he was falling, and his limbs were too heavy to  
move, his eyelids too heavy to keep open….

He came back to awareness slowly. First, that he was still lying on the exam  
table, and hands occasionally touched him, touching all over and he couldn't  
move at all. Then the faint murmuring got louder. There was someone in the  
room with Simon, one of the Sixes, and they were talking over him.  
Frightening, but also an opportunity, as it was clear they thought he was  
unconscious.

"No, there's no permanent damage," Simon said. " Give him about a month, and  
he'll be able to participate in your project. I do think it's a risk though.  
I can pin physical causes to his illness, but it could also be psychological  
and we won't know that until we see how treatment affects him. He may not be  
suitable."

Suitable for what, Felix wondered.

" He meets the standards set for prime heritage stock." The Six spoke low  
and coldly. " There are very few among the surviving humans that are viable  
for the project. His suitability has already been determined. You're  
concerned about stability, and that is a potential problem," Felix felt a  
hand rest on his chest and he willed himself to breath normally. " But  
stability can be enhanced with drugs, and I have been surprised with how  
adaptable the more intelligent ones are."

" I hadn't realized intelligence was one of the standards for the program."  
Simon said.

" Long term planning suggests that it's better that we encourage the healthy  
and more intelligent to be the primary source of repopulation. We both know  
that some Cylon models aren't… remarkable for their intelligence, or  
quality. The same is true for humans. The hybrid attempts have been too  
random and with poor quality humans…. Is it any surprise that there have  
been massive failures? Besides, it will take several generations to breed  
the humans necessary for serious attempts. Until then, we'll need  
administrators and trustworthy upper level workers…"

"Loyalty can't be bred. For example, while I think Mr. Gaeta puts on a very  
good show for us, I doubt he would stay if he had a choice, a real choice. I  
wouldn't be surprised if part of this nausea and lack of appetite is a  
reaction to the stress of masking his real feelings towards us." That was  
far closer to the truth than Felix wanted to think about

Six laughed. " The key phrase is real choice. He has no choices but the ones  
we give him. That's why intelligence is an important trait to breed for. Why  
does Mr. Gaeta work for us and not against us? Because he understands that  
he has no choice, that we won. He may have difficulty coping with that, but  
that's why intelligence is important. The foolish ones are the ones throwing  
themselves on our swords. The smart ones are adapting. This can't be the  
worst case you've seen."

"No… this is fairly mild. And you've read my reports on this. And my  
recommendations."

" We won't be allowing indiscriminate breeding forever. Once the minimum  
numbers are met, you'll be allowed to sterilize the less desirable elements.  
But that's a few years away. Right now it's our job to get all the  
designated prime stock into good condition. We'd better stop. He should be  
starting to come around."

" Probably not for a little bit yet." He could hear them as they stepped  
around the exam. A hand brushed against his face, and it took all of his  
will power not to move or change his breathing.

" They're so innocent looking when they're asleep." Gaeta could feel the  
female Cylon's breath on his face, and her hands gently massaging his  
shoulders. He was suddenly glad that the doctor had tricked him into  
sedation. Without the drug, he would have been screaming.

"Individually, they're quite charming," Simon agreed. " A few generations  
from now, raised by parents who are educated by us and not by their savage  
parents, and we'll have truly won." The feminine hands left, replaced by a  
sudden shaking. " Mr. Gaeta, you need to wake up now."

Felix continued to fake sleep, even letting the Cylon pry open his eyes and  
shine pen lights in them, before he started to feign groggy awareness. It  
helped that he did feel groggy and lightheaded. " What's… what's going on?"  
he asked as the Cylon helped him sit up. The Six model was smiling at him."  
We were talking and…."

" There was a light sedative in the IV I gave you. It hit you harder than I  
expected. You've been asleep for five hours. How are you feeling?" Simon  
asked.

Maddeningly, he felt better. " Okay. Tired, and a little fuzzy." They expect  
you to act a little messed up, he warned himself.

" I'm giving you a special requisition pass for certain items from stores."  
Six spoke coldly. " You need to take better care of yourself, Mr. Gaeta.  
You're very important to this society. This is a prescription for  
antibiotics for the ulcers, and these are requisitions for some special  
dietary foods… some protein drinks and nutritional supplements."

"If you're not able to keep those down, you need to report it," Simon  
warned. " And you need to come back in seven days so we can examine you  
again."

"I've already made the appointment," Six warned.

He took the papers she handed to him. " I'll….get these things today."  
Because they would check. It was too soon to think about the implications of  
what they had discussed while he was asleep, but he was certain they would  
check. Six always checked. He knew that from working with her. "There's  
three hours left to my work shift…. I'd better get going." It dawned on him  
that he had a great excuse to wander into places that he wasn't supposed to  
be in. He made a point of stumbling a little and swaying as he got off the  
table.

Simon grabbed him by the arm. " Perhaps you should go home early."

"No, I should at least check in," he said. He saw the way in. " I should let  
Dr. Baltar know that I'm all right at least." It helped that he could also  
wander, while in a drugged stupor, into the ID area and perhaps drop some  
cameras and stuff some id makings into his pockets. He could help Dee. She  
needed help. An id would help her get around, and he was supposed to contact  
Starbuck soon anyway with an update. He could, if he tried hard, convince  
Kara to use the system to get Dee out. If Dee got out, she could at least  
tell the resistance fighters how to find the fleet.

He was going to try to forget everything else he had heard and just focus on  
getting Dualla out of this hell hole, he decided. Everything else… He wasn't  
going to be a pawn in the Cylon plans. That was simply not going to happen.

He would get Dualla out, and if he died trying… that was all well and good.

o0o0o


	3. Chapter 3

For a long while, Dee paced the floor of Gaeta's cottage. She felt trapped by its dreary walls, unable to shake the claustrophobic feeling that time was running out on her and her mission. Eventually, she calmed down and took careful stock of her surroundings. Not being above a little snooping, she rifled through what she could find among Felix's papers, telling herself she was doing this for the mission, but inside, she knew she only wanted to get a hold of what exactly had gone wrong with him.

She found nothing that gave her any answers and the silent questions continued.

Why was he such a shadow of his former self? So beaten down, so ..._frightened_. Yes, occupation under Cylon rule was a terrifying thing, but she'd known him for years, seen him under pressure much greater and far from cracking, he'd sprung to life, spinning FTL jumps one after the other for six days straight and looking little the worse for wear from it.

He'd held it together during the Commander's shooting, more or less, and was virtually magnificent during the battle against the Resurrection Ship, a battle she nearly fell apart during, when Lee had refused to answer her call. Yes, he'd been sad and disillusioned after the election fraud, and mourned the loss of his military career, but he was a brilliant man who'd come so far in his short life -- and whatever was destroying him now couldn't have been just from a few months of enemy occupation. It had to have started earlier, but Dee couldn't imagine him simply not leaving his job as Baltar's aide if it was that repulsive, especially after the fool surrendered to the Cylons without a fight. Unless ...

Unless there was some other reason for him staying there. Something imperative, something that had nothing to do with Baltar, but ...

Dee slowly sat down. Something else was going on with Felix, something draining and dangerous. He was up to something, but what?

Still, whatever the cause for his mental instability, she had to take it into account when being guided by him. It was too important, getting those pilots back. For humanity, for herself ... for Lee.

Nervously, Dee rubbed her thumb over her bare ring finger. Over a year now, and nothing from the man she'd sacrificed so much for, except a vague promise or two about _soon_ or _someday_. Even his father had hinted that now might be the time to make things official, but Lee had mumbled and bristled at the mere suggestion, pushing the notion aside every time it was mentioned, even in jest. 

No one had brought it up again.

That was six months ago and the distance between them had widened, deepening with every call ... as well as every extended period of silence ... from Kara Thrace. Kara _Anders_, actually, Dee thought with a strange feeling of smug bitterness. At least Starbuck got her man to marry her, but how hard could that have been? Kara was infamous for getting what she wanted when she wanted it, even at the cost of others' lives.

Maybe Dee should have been grateful Kara apparently hadn't wanted Lee, but part of her wondered if this were truly the case, as well as what would happen on the day Starbuck decided she did. Dee would find it hard to kid herself that she could really stand in the way of that relationship for any length of time.

Dee closed her eyes. They were stinging but no tears fell, not anymore. Maybe she'd known it all along, that Lee was never truly hers, as much as she had once belonged to him.

Once, because time had faded a few of the roses from her eyes as well. The blind hero worship was gone, along with the first wild surges of romantic adoration. Only vestiges of that all-consuming love remained, but her loyalty was still strong and she would _not_ let him down. She had other things to prove besides love -- competence, dedication, her commitment to the survival of what was left of the human race. She _would not_ shame herself or her rank as an officer, no matter how it had been acquired.

If anything, she needed to be taken seriously. For her own sanity, as well as her future, whether Lee would be part of that or not.

That's why she was here and that's why she was going to complete that mission, no matter what anyone believed about her as a woman or as an officer. Respect, as her father told her more than once, was earned. And she intended to earn it, no matter the cost.

Outside the window, the sun was setting. She grew nervous again, hoping Felix would come back soon. Dee decided to make the time go faster with a little cooking and making sure the kitchen blinds were shut, she began to thaw and heat various things found in the freezer, being careful not to let anything smoke, choosing to boil some homemade soup instead.

It was distracting, so much so she didn't hear Felix enter the front door and she jumped when she saw him standing in the doorway, looking even paler than when he'd left that morning, holding a brown sack of what appeared to be groceries, with a smaller clear, plastic bag balanced on top, containing a pill bottle.

"Smells good," he said quietly, putting down the bag. "Did anyone see or hear you?"

She shook her head and took a covert peek at the bag's contents, small tins, all of them labeled "Protein Supplements". "No. How did your day go?"

Gods, she sounded just like a housewife. How ironic, even more so when Gaeta pulled off his coat and took a seat by the kitchen table, looking for all the world like a weary husband returned from a day at the factory. "I obtained the materials for an ID for you. I had to feign drunkenness to grab the paperwork and notary stamps without people getting suspicious, but I think I was able to obtain most, if not all of it."

"You had to pretend you were drunk? Weren't they annoyed that you were trashed during working hours?"

Gaeta snorted tiredly. "The Cylons and ... other ministers ... thought it was funny. They commented on how Old Tightass finally loosened up. Guess they didn't know me in my wild days aboard the _Galactica_"

Dryly, and Dee couldn't help but smile at that reference. Gaeta had been known as Old Tightass aboard the ship as well, except for one night he'd decided that getting shitfaced drunk on ambrosia and smoking up a storm while getting a singularly ugly cat tattoo was the way to go.

His flirtation with debauchery lasted exactly half a night longer, until the cigarettes ran out and his hangover "cure" of yet more ambrosia had turned into a disastrous night of vomiting all over the head and moaning in Dee's arms, swearing he'd never, _ever_ be a bad boy again.

He'd kept that promise as far as Dee knew, even while under Baltar's employment, where supposedly the wine and women flowed freely, if the rumors filtering back to the _Galactica_ were true. It was an interesting statement on just how much -- or rather, how little -- power Gaeta held in his position as aide to the President and Dee suddenly realized that he was just as much a prisoner, practically, as anyone else.

Perhaps there were certain nods given to his position -- better food, nicer house, more medical attention -- but if he had to feign inebriation just to snatch some papers ...

Obviously he had much less control over the general situation than Dee had at first supposed. A wave of guilt overcame her at her acidity toward him earlier, followed by a wash of pity. It must have been terrible for him here, yet he kept slogging on, against all odds. Even now, he was putting himself in serious jeopardy for her, for reasons she couldn't really fathom. Surely, there weren't many people on New Caprica who'd put themselves out for her like that, not at such risk to their positions and lives.

"Thank you, Felix," she said softly, staring at the counter. "And I'm ... I'm sorry about how I spoke to you this morning. That was out of line."

"Forget it," he said abruptly, his cheeks reddening. "The sooner you get out of here, the better. The situation is growing increasingly unstable. Not that it was very stable to begin with, but I have a feeling there are ... changes ... on the horizon."

"What kind of changes?"

"Nothing I really want to talk about. The less you know about what's going on in this hell-hole, the better. Your fate lies outside of this place," he said staunchly. "And I'm going to make sure you get out of here in one piece."

"I thought that was impossible."

"I'm going to make it possible," he replied, the old fire lighting his dark eyes. For a second, Dee could see shadows of the determined officer she once knew, but that look faded as quickly as it came, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. He was tired and it made her ache to see him so. Making him feel a little better was the least she could do, and besides, he would be of no help to anyone dead.

"You're hungry," she said firmly. "And you're going to eat, whether you like it or not and it's not going to be whatever horrible stuff that's in those 'protein supplements'. Why did you bring those? There's tons of real food in the freezer."

Gaeta's normally olive complexion paled considerably. "The, uh, doctors thought I was a bit undernourished."

"Dr. Cottle?" Dee asked, watching his face carefully.

"No. The Cylon doctors." Hesitantly. "They seem to be great believers in preventive medicine." He shrugged. "Something in their religion, the body being a temple to the soul and how it has to be taken care of at all times."

Something about that didn't sound quite right, but Dee merely nodded. "I see."

His face turned hard again. "I just do what they order and if that's drink protein shakes, that's what I do." He quickly shoved the unmarked pill bottle into his jacket pocket. "And take vitamins. It could be worse, so let's not discuss this anymore, please?"

"All right," Dee said, choosing not to press the issue further. She knew he wasn't telling the entire truth, but now wasn't the time for interrogations. She'd find out what was going on, sooner or later. "Speaking of dinner, are you ready for my gourmet veggie soup? Hope so, because there's plenty of it."

Gaeta shook his head in refusal, but she threw a "do _not_ argue with me" glance his way. "I said, you're going to have some soup ... sir." She scooped some soup into a clean bowl and brought a large piece of freshly toasted bread out of the oven, buttering it with wide strokes of a knife and placed that besides the bowl.

He stared at the steaming meal warily for a moment or two, but noticing Dee's crossed arms, he gingerly took a sip, then a bite. Pretty soon, the soup was slowly disappearing and she joined him at the table with her own plate, surprised at how hungry she suddenly was. They ate in companionable silence until the soup was mostly gone and shared the dishwashing chores, standing side by side at the sink, washing and drying in the same perfect sync they used to when working together aboard the _Galactica_.

Dee was unable to stop from sliding him a little grin when he handed her a cup, handle-out, with his usual thoughtful efficiency. "I used to make fun out of you for this kind of precision. Remember?"

"Hard to forget," he grinned back. The smile, while weak, still made him look a little more like the friend she used to know. "I then got to reprimand you. Remember _that_?"

"You never reprimanded me," she scoffed. "Not once."

"I always reprimanded you. You just never listened to me."

"Then you should have reprimanded me for _that_ instead."

He carefully rinsed the final dish. "Maybe I should have ..."

She looked down at her hands, flicking away the gathered soap. "You know, the day you left, there were so many things I wanted to say to you, but I was so angry, I couldn't see straight."

"I don't blame you. I should have kept my mouth shut."

She shook her head. "No, you were just being honest. But honesty wasn't what I wanted at that moment. I ... I know I wasn't exactly suited for the position I received, but that was the last thing I wanted to hear. And no, I shouldn't have been promoted after participating in the fraud while you were punished, but things were so backwards and insane, it kind of made sense at the time. We should have just let the dice roll where they would, things would have worked out exactly the same way, except we wouldn't have this loss ... this lack of integrity hanging over our heads. It gave Baltar more ammunition in the long run. It gave the Cylons the upper hand in a way we never could have suspected."

Gaeta sighed, before shrugging helplessly. "I read it said somewhere that we're all nothing more than the playthings of fate. Fighting against it is pointless. I never believed that, but lately, I can't help but wonder if that's really the case."

Dee's breath caught in her throat at the hopelessness in his voice. "Felix," she began brokenly, but in the end all she could do was gather him into her arms and hold on tightly, for them ... for everyone.

He curled in close, his forehead nestled against the nape of her neck and she could feel warm, shaky breaths against her skin. He was shaking all over, a tremble throughout his slight frame and she wrapped her arms more tightly around him, as if she could make them both disappear away from this terrible place with wishes alone. 

When they finally broke apart, he looked at her with red, watery eyes. "I have to work on that ID card for you -- right now. You're not safe in the slightest until I get at least that much done."

She sniffled, then nodded. "I'll finish in here."

There wasn't really all that much to do, but Dee forced herself to stay at a distance while Gaeta began his forgery work in the main living area. He laid out everything in methodical order and Dee was shocked at how complicated the entire process looked. There was even a magnetic strip of some sort to deal with and Gaeta did it with the same precision he'd always showed aboard the _Galactica_, cutting through the delicate metal with razor sharp slides of a shaving blade before gluing it to a bar-coded plastic card. There were papers that went along with it, and he wasn't carefree with those either, holding them up to the light to make sure his "edits" matched up exactly with the true wording of the originals.

He looked almost done, if the relieved look on his face was anything to go by and Dee was just about to go over and see his progress when there was a sharp rap at the door. Gaeta jumped, looking like a deer in the headlights, before waving Dee away. She could see his hands shaking when he reached into his bookcase and pulled out a small arms pistol and stepped up to the door, standing at its side, waiting to shoot.

Her heart thudded violently in her chest as he called out, "Who is it?"

A rusty-sounding voice replied: "It's Tigh. Let me in, Gaeta. It's important!"

0o0o0o0o0

For one long moment, the edges around Gaeta's vision grayed out. It's just Tigh, he told himself as he lowered the gun, it's Tigh and Tigh knows and isn't going to tell. He stuffed the gun into his waist band at the small of his back, and opened the door. Don't faint, he told himself. It's no big deal. You know why Tigh is here. He could even see it in the older man's eyes as he opened the door.

Except that he could never really be sure of anyone's motivations. Not on New Caprica. Most likely, Tigh was there for his wife. Tigh had a drinking problem, and that had never been much of a secret. Half of Gaeta's job on the Galactica before the invasion had been managing the colonel, and that had not slacked off at all with the arrival of Ellen Tigh on the Galactica. But Tigh could have managed under the Cylon rules, while Ellen was slowly collapsing.

Alcohol wasn't forbidden on New Caprica. He had even seen Cylons imbibe, although that was generally in the company of the more willing sycophants like Baltar and some of the government crowd. It was, however, strictly regulated. An adult could get one bottle of ambrosia a week, or about six beers. He could, as a member of Baltar's staff, get extra rations. Alcohol was the last thing he wanted or needed, though. And Tigh, to his credit, had gotten his problem somewhat under control, enough that he was giving Ellen the lions share of his alcohol. It simply wasn't enough for Ellen. Her drinking had always been out of control. The colonel had come to him months earlier, desperate for a favor. Desperate enough to come to him, and Gaeta couldn't deny that he'd been tempted to grind Tigh's face in his past abuse.

Being a gentleman, his father had told him, was more than minding one's manners. It meant truly being a gentle man. There was power in destroying things, and he knew without a doubt that he could have destroyed Tigh and no one would have questioned his reasons. Colonel Tigh was the reason his career was destroyed, that he was stuck under the Cylons rule. But a better man, a gentle man, could let such opportunities pass by. 

Instead, he gave Tigh the alcohol he was rationed. The two bottles, with Tigh's rations, usually kept Ellen pacified. It wasn't going to work forever, Ellen's habits were eventually going to be uncontrollable, and he didn't envy Tigh in the slightest. It was not going to be pretty. The Cylon detox methods were…. unpleasant.

" It's not a good idea for you to come here so late," he said, nervously looking over Tigh's shoulder. Tigh had a night pass id like he did, mostly because Gaeta had seen to it. There were certain people that were prioritized to get out, and as he slowly worked down the list, he had to prep the remaining people waiting. Still, it made him nervous. Tigh already knew that Dualla was there, and Ellen's condition made Gaeta worry that Tigh just might have realized that turning in a traitor and a fugitive would be a better deal.

He hated thinking that way, because he thought that way about everybody now.

Tigh frowned grimly and pushed past him, entering the small living area. " It'd be worse if I didn't come. I'm out. I would waited here for you to get off last night but…" He looked around. " Where's Dee?"

That was a good question, but answered in seconds as Dualla stepped out from behind the kitchen doorway. "Hi, Colonel Tigh."

Oddly, Felix thought as he watched Tigh and Dualla hug, it was almost nice to have people over. It had been a long time since he spent any time socializing with anyone other than the Cylons or Baltar or Baltar's various sexual partners. He fought off the warm feeling. It was not the time to get complacent. Besides, with Tigh there, Dualla would be distracted. He could head up into the tiny attic where he stored the alcohol and the special wireless set that he used to contact the resistance with. The wheels had to start turning if Dualla was going to get out. " I've got some ambrosia for you. Let me get it."

0o0o0o0o0

Gaeta jogged up the tiny staircase quickly, deliberately passing by the closet holding the ambrosia, straight to the small crawlway leading to the attic. A two-second scramble gained him access into the cramped area, which was less an attic than it was a tiny, accidental alcove created by a lucky slant of the roof.

But there was room enough for what he'd set up there. A covered box, used as storage and table for a homemade transistor set, a hand-held electronic datebook and calculator he'd been granted as a Presidential aide, now turned into a channel tuner and a worn headset, which he quickly put on, his hands already fumbling with the tuner and transistor knobs.

It was taking his life into his hands every time he zoned into a supposedly secure channel, but he had no choice. The Cylons were too busy to monitor every band and Gaeta could only pray that tonight wouldn't be the night his luck ran out. After months of covert communications with the Resistance, the irony - not to mention the terrible punishment - would be too much to bear.

Noise coming over the headset crackled in his ear. Sweat rolled down his cheeks until, finally, the line cleared and a familiar voice -- Kara Thrace's - rasped over from the other end.

"The life that I have is all that I have," she said slowly, reciting a part of the ancient poem they'd been using as code since the beginning of the Resistance, in the hope on the off-chance the Cylons heard the transmission they'd think it was just some poetry lover spouting lines over the airways for whatever reason.

Not a great cover, but it was better than nothing, as the Cylons knew every formal Colonial military cypher inside and out and this was the only thing both Kara and he knew well enough to turn into code, oddly enough. Still shaky with nervousness, Gaeta wiped his forehead dry with the back of his hand before responding.

"And the life that I have is yours." _Gaeta here. I have news._

Kara quickly responded. "The love that I have of the life that I have, is yours and yours and yours." _Thrace here. Ready for orders._

"A sleep I shall have, a rest I shall have ..." _Will be sending an important ally over to the camp after nightfall soon. Be on alert for arrival._ There was a noise from downstairs and Gaeta started. Tigh, it's just Tigh getting impatient, he thought with annoyance, turning his concentration back to the message.

"Yours and yours and yours," Kara repeated. _Please continue..._

Gaeta inhaled shakily. "Yet death will be but a pause." _This will be an extremely dangerous meet-up for everyone involved._ "For the peace of my years in the long green grass, will be yours and yours and yours." _But if successful, it might mean salvation for all of us._

There was a static-filled pause at the other end, until she softly repeated. "For the peace of my years, I will be yours and your and yours." _Got it. We're ready, let's do it._

There was no need to say anything more than that, he thought, letting the line go dead. Gaeta pulled off the headset and steadied himself against the box before carefully repacking the communications set, making sure it was as well-covered as he could manage. His legs ached, his head was killing him, but a flicker of excited hope filled his heart.

Kara and the Resistance were alerted and ready. If he could get Dee safely to the camp, it might mean escape, at least for the pilots, maybe even salvation for the rest of humanity.

With that somewhat pleasant thought in mind, Gaeta crawled out and retrieved the bottles for Tigh, making sure to brush the dust away from his knees before heading back downstairs.

0o0o0o0o0

He looks sick, Tigh thought as he watched Gaeta slip upstairs. It was a bad sign. There were things happening, rumors of things, and Saul Tigh had put a few things together. Things he kept very quiet. It wouldn't do for Ellen to put things together. Ellen… was beginning to scare him. There had always been a tiny bit of self control about the drinking. Lately though… he worried that she would do something hideous in order to feed her habit.

That was why he had brought Dualla to Gaeta. Ellen would have turned Dualla in, he knew it. And Gaeta…. The kid had a streak of decency that Baltar's cronies hadn't been able to stub out. And he had his suspicions about Gaeta. He kept those to himself, of course.

It was better to keep quiet on the patterns of mistakes that occurred in the president's office. Better still to not mention just how familiar that pattern was, except in reverse. Bill Adama had said once, in better days, that every commander should have a Felix Gaeta to watch over them. Things got done, without complaint, and without asking. Plans were thoughtfully modified, with no credit asked. Baltar was a fool for the most part, Saul Tigh had always thought that, but he had shown good sense in asking for Gaeta as his military attaché. Because things got done, and Gaeta had a ferret's instincts for covering up personal indiscretions and putting positive spin on almost anything. Tigh had no doubt that the settlement on New Caprica had functioned as well as it had because Gaeta had been behind the scenes fixing things.

And the things that had gone wrong since the Cylons had come. They all had a certain feel, a certain efficient, quiet feel to them. Like someone was carefully screwing things up in a way that couldn't be traced back to anyone. The way certain people escaped just before they were rounded up for traitorous activity, or how the resistance fighters always seemed just a little too knowledgeable about things. The Cylons had a tendency to indulge Baltar and his crowd and Tigh often wondered if Gaeta's competence helped mask what would have been blamed on spies or worse.

But he kept those thoughts to himself. " Is everything all right with you two?" he asked as he took a seat at the table, willfully ignoring the bits and pieces of things that shouldn't be on anyone's table.

" Everything's fine. Felix is doing me a favor. Would you like some coffee?" Dualla quickly set a cup in front of him and took a seat. He could hear Gaeta rummaging and banging about in the attic space. She smiled tightly. " This is awkward."

"It's safer here than anywhere else." Tigh said after a moment. " Not nicer, but safer. Gaeta doesn't let his position go to his head." Unlike some of the others who had taken cushy positions as guards in the punishment camp. Some of them liked to flaunt their privileges.

Dualla nodded, and looked down at her hands. " I… get the impression that a lot of things aren't what they seem here."

"It's difficult. Harder for the ones who ran." Not that he hadn't been tempted but Ellen wouldn't have lasted ten minutes. " I didn't get a chance to ask before… how's the old man? You and that kid of his married yet?"

" He's worried about… the situation. And no." Her face darkened. Tigh wasn't surprised. Of course Bill was worried. And of course Lee hadn't bothered to grab what was right in front of him. A shame really. Dualla was a good woman, smart and attractive. She deserved someone who wanted her. Lee Adama didn't.

She looked up as the ceiling rattled. " I'm worried about the mission and… I'm worried about what's going on with Felix. He's not... not exactly telling me a lot."

And that was no surprise. Once again, Tigh regretted the aftermath of the election. Adama needed a tactical officer and he had nothing. Scratch that, he had worse than nothing, he had his son who somehow had mastered the passive aggressive art of whining like a champion, Helo who wasn't even that good of a Raptor pilot, and Dee, who was someday going to be a good officer but right now was in over her head.

" He's under a lot of pressure. One wrong move, one mistake too many and…" He didn't finish the thought. He did wonder though… Dualla and Gaeta had always been friendly but it had never gone anywhere. At the same time, he had never heard Dee call Gaeta anything but sir before. It almost made him smile. In another time, he would have been pushing the two together.

" I can tell…" She didn't say anything more. He didn't blame her. The fact was, he didn't want to know anything. That happened a lot. More than he liked.

Gaeta strode into the room, carrying a large brown paper bag. " I've got what you need here." He looked drenched with nervous sweat. " It's getting late. Even with a night pass, you'll get in trouble if someone catches you."

That was true, although it was unlikely there would be much trouble. But Ellen was waiting and that meant there was no time to chat. But, perhaps there was time for a little advice. He took the bag and walked to the door." Mr. Gaeta, a word, if you don't mind. Outside."

It pleased him how quickly Gaeta nodded and followed him out onto the small porch. " I don't want to know what is going to happen," he said as they walked down the short sidewalk to the street. " But let me give you a piece of advice. Whatever you're planning, include yourself."

Gaeta looked at him and then up at the sky. " I wish that was possible, but it's not."

"Make it possible. I'm not asking to know anything. But I know she won't make it out of here on her own, and she needs someone to help her and I don't think there's a lot of candidates left here." It hadn't escaped him that people who did escape were usually assisted somehow, and were escaping in order of usefulness.

The younger man shrugged. " I was thinking it would be you."

" I couldn't leave Ellen. Put that idea out of your head." He said it more gruffly than he planned, but it was true. " You're smart. Come up with something. Don't let her go alone. And remember something. You're both officers now. Stop letting things get in the way."

"What does that mean?"

Tigh almost laughed. It felt good to put a quizzical look on Gaeta's face. " That means, she's an officer now, Lee Adama isn't the competition you think, and Billy Keikeya is with the gods." He held up the bag. " I appreciate the favor. Good luck."

They were going to need luck, he thought, but for once he didn't worry.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning was a gray one, but Dee couldn't think of a day so far that _hadn't_ been overcast. The climate on this planet was moderate, but still not pleasant. A perpetual mild winter hung over New Caprica and she didn't protest when Gaeta tossed her a woolen cap and black scarf to wear. Partly as warmers, partly as a disguise upon their first venture out into the streets where the watchful eyes of Cylons - human models and Centurions both - methodically scanned everyone and everything within their field of inspection.

Pulling the scarf up and the cap down low over her forehead, Dee kept close to Gaeta as they walked out of the house toward the center of town. He tapped her back, signaling her to stop slouching, as that was obviously more conspicuous than a regular gait. He was right, she looked like a fugitive, so she straightened up and walked normally, glancing around as any person might on their way to work or wherever it was these poor people were going. Not too many were wandering aimlessly as it was obvious the Cylons frowned upon perceived idleness, if their treatment of the striking union workers was any example to go by.

The night before Gaeta had given her a quick sketch of the changes the Cylons had implemented and the breaking of the unions by the cruelest force imaginable was one of the most shocking. The Chief had been one of the first to rebel and run to the hills, along with most of his former engineering mates and for this Dee was glad. Getting Chief back to the _Galactica_ was of the utmost priority, along with anyone else who could assist in bringing the battlestars out of the state of disrepair they'd fallen into over the past year.

They continued to walk side by side through the streets, with newly-paved sidewalks glistening beneath their muddy shoes. Depression and a simmering resentment hung in the air and was outlined on almost every face Dee saw, except for the children, who, like children always have, adapted to this strange new way of life with the youthful resiliency they were famous for. They laughed and played Hide and Seek, with a few of the very little ones hiding behind the terrifying silver legs of a Centurion, who ignored them, as a deadly predator might ignore the buzzing of an insect around its nose.

Where are their parents, Dee wondered, horrified, before she remembered that these children were likely orphans and to them, the Cylons were just as good caretakers as anyone else. This sent a terrible chill down her spine -- once the older humans died out, the Cylons would then be the "parents" of the entire human race, presiding over every generation to come, infecting pliable minds with their twisted philosophies until the Colonial way of life faded away entirely, relegated to histories back pages as legend, or worse, a pack of foolish and wicked lies.

This thought made Dee's stomach churn with nausea, but it strengthened her resolve as well. Her mission was even more imperative, not only to save lives, but to save the very memory of their beloved Colonies from obliteration.

Beside her, Gaeta kept a hawk's eye view on their surroundings, his face set in what Dee used to call 'blank-slate mode', an old officer's school trick, something he'd no doubt been trained to do for use during combat situations when a mere look of fear or confusion on a commander's face could destroy morale to the point of disaster. Admiral Adama was a great believer in this tactical poker face; no doubt Gaeta had been emulating him as a survival technique in a world where looking at someone the wrong way at the wrong time could mean a speedy trip to a detention camp ... or worse.

His look of serenity was so convincing, Dee grew careless as she gawked, stopping only when she bumped right into someone.

Someone who looked very much like a Cylon model she'd once known. A Cylon she used to call 'friend'.

A Cylon named Boomer.

Panic tingled through Dee's scalp in hot waves, but Gaeta's hand was immediately on her elbow and squeezing it to the point of pain, forcing her to stay rooted to the spot. Faint with fear, Dee wondered if the Cylon could sense her terror or hear the pounding of her heart, and gods, if this was the _actual_ Boomer, her cover was blown to hells and back.

But luckily for them, this one appeared to be nothing more than a copy. "Mr. Gaeta, I'm glad to see you today," the Cylon said with a strange enforced politeness. "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?"

Of course, it would be nice weather to a Cylon, who only felt cold and heat when they wanted to, but Gaeta simply responded with that same blank cheerfulness he always did when addressing a superior. "Thank you, Number Eight. It's certainly not too hot this morning, which is a good thing."

The Cylon smiled grimly. "There'll be a meeting with President Baltar today at one o'clock. You'll be there, I trust?"

"Of course," Gaeta replied, his own smile as brittle as Dee had ever seen it. "I wouldn't miss a chance to assist in the progress of our new society."

"I'm glad to hear that," Number Eight said. She looked just about to turn around and go on her way, when, to Dee's great horror, the Cylon stopped to examine her more closely, leaning in as if to get a good look beneath her scarf and hat. "Mr. Gaeta, I don't believe you introduced me to your companion here."

"Forgive me," Gaeta said, his face set as if in stone. "This is Babylonia, our new latrine maintenance manager."

Dee blinked. Was _that_ what it said on her ID card? Obviously she should have read the thing first. "Hi," she said shyly, forcing herself to grin beneath her scarf.

The Cylon wrinkled her nose. "Oh. The latrine manager. Well, carry on, Mr. Gaeta. Good day to you, Babylonia."

"Bye," Dee mumbled with a little wave. Once the Boomer model was gone, Dee turned to Gaeta. "Babylonia? The _latrine_ manager?"

"It was the only feasible ID left, except for Scylla, the sex-worker," he said, gently pulling her along after him. "Besides, Cylons have a distinct distaste for human waste elimination and the people who take care of it. It appears they don't do it themselves, except when undercover as agents. They normally get their food from lying in a tub and absorbing it right into the bloodstream."

"So Cylon shit really _doesn't_ stink, huh? Great," Dee muttered. "No wonder they think they're so superior to us."

"Careful now. We're heading into the Cylon Main Space," Gaeta warned, as they reached the center of town, designated so by a large open square, that might have been a park or town hall, if they'd been on Caprica, but here there was little more than a functional space, outlined by stolid metal barriers, polished to a dull glow. It was cold and uninviting, nothing like the green flowering spaces of her home world or the ones she'd visited on vacations, so long ago.

Also unlike a park or meeting square, this area was studiously avoided by most pedestrian traffic, which confused Dee. "Why is everyone going out of their way to sidestep this place? Are only Cylons allowed here?"

Gaeta shook his head. "No, everyone's welcome here, but no one wants to be here. This is where they hold the public executions."

Dee nearly fell down at this revelation, but Gaeta's hand on her back kept her steady. "Public executions," she breathed, hardly daring to say the words.

Such barbarism had been outlawed in the Colonies centuries before. Yes, certain Colonies still carried out the death penalty, but on the whole it was considered a punishment for only the most extreme cases and certainly, no execution was ever done publicly. "But why?"

"They think it's a good deterrent. They might be right. It certainly makes me think twice about things."

Dee had to swallow past a choking lump in her throat, which grew larger when they passed a high stage, which could be seen from any vantage point in the square. Obviously, this was where the executions were held and she had to look away, her heart pounding with fear ... and rage. How _dare_ the Cylons do this, on top of everything else and by the gods, if she survived this ... if humanity survived this ... there would be a day of reckoning for the Cylons, the likes they'd never dreamed of. 

They would pay for these brutal actions. Someday ... she and the rest of humanity would make sure of it.

Behind them, Dee could hear the distant beat of drums, but not the kind played by humans. This was a mechanical sounding drumbeat and Gaeta's false composure crumbled at the sound of it. "Come on," he hissed, pulling her away from the stage, toward the far corners of the square. The panic in his voice was palpable. "Hurry!"

She ran with him and wasn't alone. Everyone took off, as Centurions marched in formation down the path leading to the square, surrounding a hapless prisoner, no doubt walking their final mile. Dee strained to see who it was, but the tall machines blocked her view, along with the pushing and shoving crowd that had materialized behind her, seemingly out of nowhere.

Morbid bastards, she thought, pushing them back. Besides her, Gaeta complexion slowly paled to a sickly shade of white. "Oh, gods ..." he murmured, as the Cylon troop climbed the stage, then parted, revealing their doomed prisoner. "It's Cally."

"But…" Dualla began. But Cally was just a girl, just her age, who wanted to be a dentist of all things. She wasn't a hardened criminal. The last she had heard, Cally was pregnant. Pregnant girls didn't get executed. She hadn't looked pregnant though, and one of the Sharons was carrying a squalling infant. Gaeta's look silenced her in an instant. As the crowd swirled around them, he pulled her close.

"Listen to me very carefully," he whispered. " I have to watch. If I leave, questions will be asked. If you don't want to see this…" He took a deep breath. " It's going to be ugly. Eight… Sharon… has been asking for this for a while. You could slip out."

The look on his face, more than the warning, made her want to take his advice. She had no doubts that he had seen things. He didn't talk about that, but Col. Tigh had dropped hints. And Felix didn't sleep as lightly as he thought. She had awakened the night before to find him curled up on the floor in the throes of a nightmare. She hadn't dared to wake him.

On the other hand, it wasn't right. The people were suffering, and they weren't going to be easily rescued. She had to know what was going on, what was happening. The longer the people were ground under the boot heels of the Cylons, the more difficult it would be to rescue them. "I'm staying."

Gaeta shook his head. " You're not going to like what you see." He entwined his hand with hers and moved them to a place up against the courtyard wall. "If you can't keep watching, look down at your feet. Don't try to leave." He looked around the crowd nervously. " They're requiring everyone over the age of twelve to attend. It will be bad."

They waited as the courtyard filled. She could see the crowd was dully frightened. The Centurions were circling around, while the human appearing Cylons went through the crowd, with Eights predominating. There was an Eight on the dais, holding a baby. " Oh gods… is that Cally's baby? They aren't going to…." She couldn't even say it.

"Probably not," Gaeta said softly. " I've never seen them punish children before. Usually they've already spent a lot of time teasing the prisoner with that, but…"

Dualla watched as Cally fell to her knees and began to sob. They weren't close enough to hear but she knew what begging looked like. " What will happen to the baby?"

Gaeta shrugged. " Sharon wanted it. To raise." The drums pounded to a crescendo and the crowd grew unnaturally quiet. "Don't make a sound, and remember to look down." He squeezed her hand for reassurance.

Number Eight went to the microphone stand. Unlike the other Number Eight, this one seemed… different. It wasn't just an Eight… It was Sharon, the first Sharon, the Sharon that Cally had gunned down. Dualla almost cringed as the attractive Cylon looked out over the crowd with a smirk on her face.

" People of New Caprica! We are saddened to announce that this traitor," and Sharon viciously kicked Cally, " has refused to renounce her ties to the rebels. This traitor has been given many chances to become a productive citizen."

" That's a lie," Gaeta muttered in Dualla's ear. " She couldn't run. She was eight months pregnant. She was locked up almost as soon as someone turned her in for knowing Tyrol." She wasn't surprised. There were angrier, and louder, whispers going on, and more than one woman was worried about the baby.

Sharon allowed the whispers for a moment and then held up her hand. It was obviously a well known signal as everyone immediately grew silent. Sharon handed the baby to one of the Six's, who cooed at the baby as she took it. Sharon kicked Cally again. " By order of the Cylon Council, and by decree of President Gauis Baltar, Jane Cally, you are found guilty of sedition. You are also guilty of murder." Sharon unsheathed a long, wicked looking knife. She glared at Cally, and it was obvious that she was saying something meant only for Cally's ears. Judging by Cally's expression, it was more than just a taunt. Trust Sharon to be wickedly cruel, Dualla thought darkly. She watched as Cally's face took on an even more horrified expression.

Cally screamed. " You'll never win!" and then made a desperate lunge for her baby. The Cylons all snickered and then Sharon swung the knife. She made a practiced slash and there was red on the knife and on Cally's shirt.

For an instant, Dualla thought that the cut hadn't been deep. Then Sharon dropped the knife and grabbed Cally. She punched the now silent woman and Dualla watched in shock as blood and….things spilled out of Cally's abdomen. The woman's intestines spilled to the ground. Some even fell off the dais. Cally looked down and numbly began to pick up the bleeding organs. Then she began to scream.

It wasn't until she felt Felix pull her back that she realized that she had started to move. " Stop it," he hissed, squeezing her arm so hard that there would be bruises for weeks. " Stop moving, look down at your feet. There's nothing you can do except get killed. For nothing."

Dutifully, she looked down and tried to close her eyes to the inarticulate shrieks. He was right, Cally couldn't be saved, not even if she had more than just Gaeta to help her storm the podium and get the woman to a doctor.

They're going to pay, she vowed.

0o0o0o0o0

Dee had no idea how they got back to the house. She simply stumbled after Gaeta, holding onto his hand like a lifeline as he pushed through the terrified crowd. Slowly, the mob thinned and they were walking quickly down the streets ... not running ... no, that would be too dangerous, but Gaeta could move fast when he wanted to and Dee had to struggle to keep up.

This was made even more difficult by the images that refused to stop revolving around her brain. Like some sick horror film, the vision of Cally's last desperate lunge toward her child, coupled with her bloody execution ... the sheer cruelty of it boggled Dee's mind.

Sickening. These monsters are sickening, she thought, as Gaeta quickly led her inside the house, slamming and locking the door behind her. He strode through the rooms, quickly locking the windows and yanking curtains closed, his face ashen. "This isn't safe," he muttered over and over again. "They're always on heightened alert after an execution. If they do a spot check ..."

"Should I leave?" Dee asked, suddenly dizzy with dread. Her hands were clammy, she felt sick and when she nearly fell trying to sit down, Gaeta turned to her with a surprised look.

"No, of course not," he said, reaching over to steady her. Biting his lip, he glanced around. "Maybe the bedroom is safer. There's only one small window and if anyone comes to the door, you'll have time to hide. Come on."

He led her there, holding onto her elbow, waiting patiently as she stopped in the door frame, clutching it for a moment. She wanted to retch, she wanted to run and knew she couldn't do either. Officers were better than this, braver than this and gods, she was so ashamed when she crawled into the poor bed, crying, with her fist pressed against her mouth to stifle the miserable sounds.

Gaeta peered at her, his face softening with concern. "I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but I promise it's going to be all right. You're going to survive this and get back to the _Galactica_. I'm going to make sure of it."

She shook her head. If only needing to escape from this filthy planet was the real problem. True, she was lost but not in the way he thought ... her entire life had spiraled out of control and this helpless feeling, it was more than scary. It was terrifying. Dee had never felt so alone ... abandoned, and the thought made her sob all the harder. "Please stay," she murmured, reaching out to his blurry form, wavering in and out of her aching vision. "Just ... stay with me."

There was a long moment of silence. Dee thought back to the months that had passed since they'd said a kind word to one another and gods, who was she to ask him for anything, after all that had passed. But Felix had always been there for her, as a friend and right now, she needed him, as a friend ... as comfort ... as an escape, at least for a few precious moments.

To her surprise, he took the hand she offered, locking their fingers together before gingerly climbing into the bed beside her. He allowed her to cling to him, tightly wrapping his arms around her in a protective gesture. His breathing sounded shaky and she pressed her hand over his heart, wondering at its fast beat before tucking her head beneath his chin, slowly regaining her composure ... her sanity ... breath by breath.

"I dream about you," he said quietly, after some time had passed. "When I dare to dream."

What a strange confession, she thought, looking up to smile weakly at him. She brushed a finger against his cheek and he closed his eyes against the touch, sending a spark of warmth down her body. Touched his lips and when he turned her palm up to kiss it, she didn't pull away. _This is wrong_, she thought, _the wrong time, the wrong man -- at least, it supposed to be the wrong man_, but she didn't resist when he turned over to kiss her, tenderly, as if she were something precious and rare, a treasure discovered.

_Impossible_ to resist, and she quickly batted away his trembling hands, undoing buttons for him -- his and hers -- arching into his touch. It was reverent, maybe a little too reverent and she took over, enjoying his yelp of surprise when she unzipped him and took him in hand, urging him on. "Come on ..." she hissed, wriggling out of her pants, not caring about the bits that snagged on her ankle, yanking down his just far enough to let him move. "Hurry."

He caught on quickly, pulling off his shirt and she closed her eyes as he pressed himself atop her, letting his hard warmth shield her. Once inside her, he whispered as he moved, strange things about how he wouldn't mind dying now, like this, using words like _love_ and _need_ and _please_. 

_Oh gods, please..._

Raising her hips, she bit back a scream when he roughly pulled her up to him, pumping into her hard. She spurred him on, meeting him thrust for thrust, losing herself in the sensation; a perfect escape. An escape that was over all too soon as the familiar spasms racked her body, wave after wave and she floated on them, enjoying a few seconds of warm, blessed freedom.

Head bowed, he kept moving, gasping her name as he came. Seconds after it was over, he glanced up at her and his expression was such a mixture of terror and embarrassment, she couldn't help but press another kiss to his mouth, which he returned, somewhat guiltily.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, pushing himself up and grabbing his clothing, pulling most of it on in a few awkward motions. "I ... this was wrong. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

"You took advantage of _me_? Felix ..."

"I did," he said quickly, swallowing hard before ducking into his overshirt. "And ... I'm sorry, Dee. We should forget it happened."

Seconds later, he was completely, if haphazardly, dressed and Dee felt strange, as if there was an undercurrent of emotion here she didn't quite understand. Yes, maybe they shouldn't have wasted precious time like this and she was still with Lee ... theoretically ... but taking _advantage_ of her?

"If that's what you want," she replied carefully. "But you didn't take anything that wasn't freely offered. If anything, Felix, I was the one ..."

"Please," he begged, his eyes huge and beseeching. "We can't get sidetracked. I have to attend that meeting soon and if they suspect there's someone here, I don't doubt they kill us both. They're obviously upping the stakes, executing Chief's wife. It means they're worried about things and a nervous Cylon is a dangerous Cylon. They don't deal well with any kind of resistance, even emotional. I ... I can't take these risks, not now. I have to get you out of here and if I get distracted ..."

"I understand." She pulled the blankets up protectively to her chest, drawing herself up to look directly at him. "Are you sure attending this meeting is a good idea?"

He laughed humorlessly. "It's not like I have a choice."

Dee looked down at her lap and they sat like that for a long while, in silence, the clock ticking the minutes away. Finally, it was time to go and with a heavy sigh, Felix took her hand and squeezed it. "Stay here. Don't be tempted to roam around without me. Sleep if you can; I have a feeling we'll be on the run sooner rather than later, so it's better you rest now. And above all, don't worry. I'm going to make this work ... somehow."

"You make it sound so easy. But, whatever you say ... sir."

Jokingly, and she was heartened to see a ghost of a smile cross his face. "Thanks, Dee." He bent down to press a clumsy kiss to the top of her head. "For everything."

She watched as he left, closing the door softly behind him. Listened to the click of the front door being locked and gathering the sheets around her, she tiptoed to the window, peeking out over the street outside, watching as he walked away. A stab of worry filled her, but she pushed the feeling aside. 

He could take care of himself. Everything would be fine. He _said_ it would be and she had to learn to trust him.

No matter how difficult that was.

0o0o0o0o0

It was wrong, he told himself forcefully as he strode down the corridor of the Colonial One, it was wrong and you have to stop thinking about it. Felix forced himself to slow down his fast walk. She was just upset, it didn't matter who had been with her. She would have responded the same way to a woman, or to any man, because she was upset. No, he told himself, she was shocked, horrified at Cally's death.

He wondered if she realized that it wasn't the worst death he'd seen in the last four months. No, Dee had no idea that there were worse ways to die, that something as innocuous as a sharpened stick could be a tool of torture. Or that a person could live for days without skin. He hadn't known. He had every intention of keeping her ignorant of such facts. When he had spoken to Kara, and that felt so long ago even though it was just less than twenty four hours earlier, she had agreed to assist him. There would be people waiting, tonight and tomorrow, for Dualla to slip through the sentries and escape. 

Gods, how he wanted her safe. He knew she was with Lee Adama, and as much as he didn't particularly like or respect Lee, he didn't want to be the person that drove them apart. It was too late for him to even consider making a play for her, he was no fool about that. Col. Tigh could joke about it but he wasn't competition for Lee Adama. He wasn't even competition for Billy Keikeya, who had been a far better match for Dee than he or Lee would ever be. The best thing, the best thing about the whole horrid day, was that he had every intention of getting Dee out that night. At 2am, the guard patrols would be conferring with their leaders and the Cylons considered it a safe time to pull most of the guards for instruction on the next day's events.

He was going to take her to the fence on the southwest side of town and get her through, even if he has to die doing it. Kara didn't want that, she had repeated the same thing that Tigh had, that it was time for him to leave, but he didn't agree. He_ couldn't_ agree. There were still people who needed his help. There were still people who needed to get out…. It was wrong to leave while people were desperate to get out, even if the majority of useful military people had already been assisted with escape.

No, it was for the best that he stayed. That kept Dee safe. He hugged his jacket around himself, feeling the pill bottle of antibiotics in his pocket. It was ironic beyond belief, he thought as he strode towards the meeting room, but he actually felt better. The IV the day before had helped, he wasn't enough of a romantic to disregard it, but he also hadn't been vomiting for the past few days. Of course his stomach was rolling in anticipation of the meeting, but not nearly as bad as it had been.

And that just made him feel worse. He had taken advantage of her, used her to feel better for just a few minutes, to indulge in the fantasy that she really wanted him. Oh it wasn't rape, she_ had_ wanted it and he wasn't fool enough to think he had somehow forced her. But forcing wasn't the same thing as taking advantage and that he had done, because he had always wanted her. On the Galactica, there had been no chance to be more than friends. He couldn't have gotten away with even trying to date Dualla, even if she had wanted him. And she hadn't, and once she was safely off New Caprica, she would go back to Lee. When she had time to reflect, she might realize that he had wanted her. But he doubted it. That was just how his life went. He was in love, and had been in love, with a woman who was never going to be more than a friend.

Focus, he told himself harshly as he walked down the corridor. Afternoon meetings, especially after an execution, were usually tense. Bad things could happen. He was Baltar's aide and that had certain protections but he had to be sharp. Or else.

When he entered the conference room, he realized immediately that it was going to be more than bad. Baltar wasn't there, and that meant that things could get out of control. The Cylons weren't subtle, not by a long shot, but they generally held off actively torturing people in front of Gauis. Gauis Baltar was not the man he had thought, and hoped, that he was, but the Cylons knew better than to require him to see people being hurt. Baltar didn't handle it well, not at all, and often insisted it be stopped.

Not that it mattered in the long run. The victim rarely escaped their fate… They were usually escorted to the punishment camp and the situation was dealt with. Felix usually found himself taking terse notes when such things happened. But with Baltar absent, anything could happen.

There was only a Three in the small room, and she had apparently cowed the small group of presidential staff into silence. That was not a good thing. He knew Three as D'anna Biers, although he wasn't sure if it was that particular version in the room. She had interviewed him, so long ago on the Galactica but since the invasion he had learned to be very careful around her. He glanced at the clock. He wasn't late, and yet when he stepped over to his customary place for the briefing, he knew without a doubt that he was Three's target. Three had a temper. All the Threes had a temper. She glared at him and he didn't sit down. He was the only man in the room, which meant very little. Baltar preferred female staff over male. Gaeta didn't know whether to be pleased or offended by that, but as time had worn on, he often felt like the only man in the harem. Three didn't discriminate but her last few victims had been women. Lords of Kobol, he thought swiftly, if you're real, do with me what you will, but let Dee get out of here alive.

"Mr. Gaeta! Come over here!" Three glared at him even more harshly. Resigned, he walked to the front of the room. He was in for it, but it was better to take the punishment than to protest. It was possible to survive being targeted, he had taken his fair share of beatings but Three… unlike Six or Twelve or Five, Three had a well known tendency to lose control.

She eyed him up and down and he was uncomfortably aware that she was actually larger than he was. " Mr. Gaeta, while everyone was working yesterday, you were absent. Why were you not at your duties?"

" I was…" He didn't get to finish. Three punched him in the face and then in the stomach. Cover your head, he thought numbly as he curled into a ball on the floor. Three sometimes lost interest, although the rapid fire way she silently rained blows on him suggested that she had just been waiting for an opportunity. Once he was on the floor, she let loose with her feet, kicking him savagely. He realized too late that she was intent on making an example of him, to teach the rest of Baltar's staff a lesson about attendance. If he raised a hand, if he even looked like he was going to fight, she would kill him out of hand. Still, as she continued to rain blows upon him, he realized that she meant to kill him. Dimly he thought he heard a startled protest but that was drowned out by the sickening pain and the rushing in his ears.

It was disconcerting to come back to awareness and realize that he was in a different position than the last one he remember. Someone had rolled him onto his back and straightened him out and every inch of his body burned with pain. Again, he had the disassociated sense that people were touching him and talking over him, only this time it was mind numbing pain that was keeping him from opening his eyes.

" You know this was unjust!" That was Baltar, and while he sounded drunk, he also sounded pissed off. " Felix was away from work yesterday on my orders and yours. He was ill and the doctor verified that!"

" Fortunately," and he recognized the cool, collected voice of Six, " This appears to be mostly cosmetic damage. However, Three, you were informed that Mr. Gaeta has been designated as a prime candidate for my genetics project and therefore any physical punishment was to be approved by me before it was enacted. And President Baltar is quite correct. This was unnecessary."

"You know there's a leak on the staff," snarled the Three.

"I assure you, the leak is most certainly not Felix." That was Baltar and for just a moment, Felix allowed himself to feel a small rush of affection. Baltar was a pathetic excuse for a human being, but it was risky even for him to go to the defense of a suspected leak.

Still, it did nothing to help the pain. He struggled to open his eyes, but that seemed to send daggers of pain into his head and his consciousness dimmed again. 

When he came back to awareness again, he knew it couldn't have been very long, but even before he opened his eyes, he knew that the Cylons had left. There was a wet cloth on his face, which was solicitously removed. By Baltar, which surprised him, but he was more startled by the blood on the cloth. Baltar helped him sit up and he was painfully aware of just how stiff and bruised he felt. There were welts on his arms that were just starting to turn red. They weren't even going to bruise for days, and as he carefully touched his face, he knew the puffy numb feeling was just the precursor to a lot more pain.

"Try not to move just yet," Baltar said gently. " You probably have a concussion."

It was… disconcerting to see Baltar sitting on the floor of the conference, like someone who actually cared. Then again, even a drunken, drugged monster still had feelings and Baltar had, as of late, been surprisingly concerned about the staff. Not the average minion of New Caprica, of course, and Felix was quite certain that Baltar had no idea that there had been an execution in the square, but he had gotten quite attached to the staff. " I didn't do anything…."

" No, you didn't. Three was worried about the possibility of a leak, and overreacted. She didn't know you had permission to miss work." Baltar stood up and helped him to his feet. " This should not have happened… Now, if you think you can walk, I've got Playa making up a bed here for you tonight."

No, Felix thought, that wasn't a good idea. If he didn't return home, Dee was going to worry. " No, I'm all right."

" You're not all right, Felix." Baltar was insistent and concerned. And the very fact that Gauis Baltar was acting concerned meant that he must look bad indeed.

That meant he needed to act a lot better than he felt. And he felt pretty awful, truth be told. He took a few tentative steps, taking great care to keep himself from falling. " I'm all right," he said again as he slowly turned to face Baltar. " It must look worse than it is. I'll be fine. I might… I might want a day off though…" Because he had a feeling that he wasn't going to get back up once he sat down. At the same time, he couldn't help but realize that Six was right. There was nothing broken except maybe some ribs. He was going to look spectacularly bruised, there were some cuts, no, some gouges in his skin that were still bleeding a little, and he could feel his eyes puffing up, but he was lucky. He had seen much worse. On the other hand… Baltar was eyeing him with real worry on his face. " I am all right, really. I hate sleeping here. It's cold and noisy, and Playa is probably upset too and putting her out of her bed is mean." He began to step to the door.

Baltar reached out to stop him. " Do you think I don't know that you're in pain? Felix… I am not letting you go to that pathetic little shack you call a house and leave you there alone. You're bleeding from your ears. You can't spend the night alone." As he stepped in closer and took Felix by the arm, Felix picked up a strong whiff of alcohol. Baltar was drunk, and that wasn't much of a surprise except the man tended to be a lot more indulgent to others when drunk. That usually made him less likely to notice things, as well. Baltar was a smart man, but he only saw the ugly things around him when he wanted to. And he rarely noticed much about his underlings.

" I wouldn't be alone," he said quickly. " My girlfriend… Babylonia… she was coming over tonight." Baltar barely ever noticed Dualla, Felix reasoned, and he had a very bad feeling about how safe his position really was. Three suspected him. It was only a matter of time before he was interrogated. Six would probably see to it that he survived… It was a question of what kind of life that would be. There was more than one previously dangerous, intentionally damaged, drooling janitor in the punishment camp. He fought off a shudder. It was chancy, but if he didn't get back to Dualla, she would go looking for him.

And that would be much worse than taking a beating.

Baltar's eyes widened in surprise. " A girlfriend? Well… Still, I'm going to walk you home, and you will have the next three days off. And I will make sure that everyone is informed. Now, let's get you to your bed."


	5. Chapter 5

The late afternoon shadows were already starting to dip down the walls and Dee couldn't help but pace the floor harder. Sleep had been elusive, in spite of Gaeta's exhortation that she get as much of it as possible and now she was near panic as the day neared its close. He'd warned her about the dangers of this place, she'd seen them firsthand, but surely he'd be protected somewhat as Baltar's aide. 

Or maybe there something going on that he _still_ hadn't shared with her.

Which was stupid of him, she thought, her jaw tight. They had always been friends and yes, perhaps she hadn't shown herself as the most trustworthy of persons, with hiding Roslin's _and_ Lee's duplicity from him at some points, but this was different and gods, this staying here and doing nothing was going to drive her insane.

Just at the moment she thought she couldn't take another second of waiting, the door opened and Dee jumped when an obviously injured Gaeta fell forward leaning on the arm of ...

Gaius Baltar. Actually that was _President_ Gaius Baltar and Dee's eyes grew huge. She quickly reached for Felix, trying to avoid Baltar's gaze as much as possible, but the man wasn't only drunk, he was drunk and leaning in far too close and it took every ounce of willpower she had left not to just shove him out of the way.

"Are you Babylonia?" he slurred, peering at her through eyes that were smaller than slits.

What in hells was he blabbering about, Dee thought, helping Gaeta sit down, gasping at the sight of dried blood around his ears and nose. "Oh gods," she said, brushing blood-sticky hair from Felix's forehead. "I'll get a wet rag."

"He'll need more than that," Baltar interjected. He sat down heavily on the only other available chair. "And I must say, you look rather familiar, Babylonia. Did you used to work on the _Galactica_ by any chance?"

The water ran cold over Dee's hands as she squeezed a clean dishtowel through it. Part of her was terrified -- why in Hades did Felix bring Baltar here? -- part of her was as irritated as ever with Baltar, a man who'd seen her at least a hundred times aboard the _Galactica_ and he _still_ didn't know who she was.

_He's crazy as ever_ she thought, coming back with the cloth and gently pressing it to Felix's wounds. They didn't seem deep, but his eyes were glazed and the ear bleeding, gods, that must be a head injury.

"Because I must say, you look _very_ familiar. Have we met under, er, other circumstances, maybe?"

Which was probably why he brought Baltar back with him. He barely knew what he was doing. "Who did this to you?" she whispered to Gaeta, ignoring Baltar's continued blabbering. "Did _he_ do this?"

"Me? My dear, Felix is a very good friend of mine. I came here to assist. But of course I can always leave."

"That would be great," she snapped. She turned back to Felix who kept blinking, as if the dim indoor lighting hurt to look at. "It's okay. Just tell me what you need."

"He could probably use someone who is a bit less of a bitch," Baltar grumbled, before peering again at her closely. A light bulb went off somewhere behind his bleary eyes. "Wait a minute, I know you! You're ... Cee ... no, wait ... Bea? Hold on ... I know you now, I just need to think of your name. You're ..."

"Dee!" she growled. "My name is Anastasia Dualla, Dr. Baltar and you've known me for years, except that you're too damned crazy to remember the simplest things. And I swear to the gods, if you did this to him, I will go into that kitchen, grab the biggest knife in there and ..."

"He was helping, Dee," Felix murmured, holding tightly onto her hand. "The Cylons did this and we need to go. I ... I'm just so tired."

"Then rest," she murmured soothingly. "Don't worry about anything right now."

"Ooooh, Dee, of course," interjected Baltar, leaning back in the chair with a disinterested air. Fumbling through his pockets, he found a cigarette and lit it with attempted aplomb, the matchstick shaking in his unsteady hand. "I'd say it's good to see you, but haven't you heard that there are no trespassing orders on this planet, especially from current military personnel? And by the way, how have you been getting around here?" He blew out a thin ring of smoke. "Curiouser and curiouser. Are you here for any particular reason? Did you bring anything? Because I could certainly use a bit more of my medication ..."

Shaking with rage and more than a little fear, Dee rose and hauled Baltar up by the collar. She smiled sweetly at a still-dazed Gaeta before bodily dragging the President into the kitchen.

"Listen to me," she hissed, backing him up against the stove with a hard shove. "It doesn't matter to you why I'm here. In fact, you don't know I'm here, I was never here and if you want me to testify favorably at your trail for treason some day down the line, you'll forget you ever saw me."

"Trial for treason?" Baltar tried to laugh, but there was real fear lurking beneath the chuckle. "I _saved_ the human race, young lady." He made a few ineffectual brushes at her hands, trying to loosen her grip on him, but failed. "And remember who you are talking to. I'm the President of the Colonies, as if you don't already know."

"I know who I'm talking to all right. The man who surrendered to the Cylons without blinking, who sold us out to the cruelest, sickest creatures in the universe, who let them kill the few of us that are left, who turned unwilling women into baby-factories ..."

"They aren't all unwilling," he interrupted weakly, gagging when Dee's stranglehold on his collar tightened.

"You are the slime of the universe and I swear you'll get yours someday, but if you don't want that to be right now, you'll shut up and tell me what happened to Felix," she ground out from between grit teeth. "Is he in danger?"

Baltar finally squirmed free from her choke-hold and tried to feebly straighten his jacket. "Depends on who else knows about you being here. Depends if they suspect something, which I'm now thinking they might. They were quite vicious with him, but the one who did this is unstable on a good day, so it's hard to tell. They seem divided on the issue, but if you must know, I'm a great friend to that young man in there; out of all the people on this rotten world or on that rotten ship, he's one of the few whose company I actually appreciate."

"I'm sure he's returned that appreciation a hundred times over. He's probably been keeping this place running single-handedly."

"That's not very fair," Baltar complained, attempting to take another puff of his cigarette but the flame had faded out. "I'm doing my best under the circumstances. Life here is ..." He paused, sniffling slightly. "Very hard. Why, I haven't had a good night's sleep in quite some time if you must know. Weeks, maybe."

Dee rolled her eyes. "Remind me to cry for you later." She glanced back into the living room, where Felix sat with his eyes closed, his face twisted in pain. "Now you're going to get out of here and forget everything you heard and saw. If you do that, I'll be able to say someday that no, you weren't colluding with the Cylons as far as I could tell. I think that would be a very helpful thing for you in the long run. A _very_ helpful thing."

Baltar seemed to consider this. "All right, I'll keep your little secret. But I still think your accusations are way out of line."

"Noted."

Baltar turned to leave through the kitchen door, but paused. "Do me favor. When Felix is a little less under the weather tell him that I truly appreciated his work and that ... that I care for him more than I might have shown. Anyone would be lucky to have him by their side as an aide or a friend. Tell him I said that, will you?"

Slowly, Dee nodded. "I'll tell him."

He left then and Dee made sure to turn every lock on the door, double checking to make sure it was bolted shut. Running back to Felix, she knelt in front of him and took both his hands up in hers, trying desperately to get him to focus. "We need to leave here," she said slowly and deliberately. "Right away. Tell me what I need to do so we can get the frak out of here."

Felix gazed at her dimly for a moment, then shook his head as if trying to clear it. "I .. I already packed your bag. It's in the back of the main closet. You just need to grab it and go."

"Where are your things?"

"My things." He grimaced, then shook his head again. "No. There are no my things, Dee. I'm staying here. They need me here, I can't leave the people here on their own, without anyone to turn to. It wouldn't be fair."

"I think you've done all that could reasonably be expected of you," she replied carefully. She rubbed his hand, trying to will warmth back into his fingers which were ice cold. "Now it's time for you to get out of here and be needed somewhere else. We can't lose you." Dee hesitated. "_I_ can't lose you. So please, come with me out of this hellhole. Do it for me, Felix, please."

He blinked at this, color infusing his pale cheeks. "You really want me to come with you? Are you sure?"

"I need you to come with me." To punctuate her point, Dee lifted his hand and placed a small kiss on his fingers, using her best kitten-eyed look on him, praying that this wouldn't be the one and only time she'd failed to make a man do what she wanted him to. "Please?"

Gaeta looked at her a moment, his throat working. Finally, with a groan, he rose from the couch and limped to the closet. "If that's the case, I think I have a couple more weapons we can take. Maybe some more food ..."

Dee bit her lip, her heart soaring with hope. "We're going to do this thing, Felix. We're really going to get out of here and get people back to the _Galactica_, I just know it."

Grimly, he started to pack a small backpack with extra supplies. "I hope you're right," he said quietly, as through the window, the sun died down beneath the horizon and night fell heavily over New Caprica.

0o0o0o0o0

He could barely think around the pain. His head throbbed unmercifully and it was all he could do to throw a few items of clothing into his bag. The guns… where did I put the guns, he thought as he looked through his closet. He had several guns, ones that he hadn't turned in, and one or two that he kept on hand to slip out when someone ran. He just… couldn't seem to remember where he put them. Or why Dualla was rushing around him, taking his few photos of his past life out of their meager frames and wrapping them in plastic. She was putting them in her pack, the bag he had filled for her to take with her on the escape, and he didn't understand why. She was also as frantic as he had ever seen her, shoving more of his things into her pack as he put the guns and ammo and some of the more portable food rations into his pack.

He didn't mention the photos. He didn't understand it, but he hurt too much to ask her why she wanted the last few photographs he had, or why she was rifling through his few keepsakes. Or why she was acting increasingly frenzied. " Calm down," he said as he watched her rush about. " We… we'll have to go while people still might be out. You can't… be so upset. I look beat up… people are going to stare anyway but if you're upset…They might not believe my story if you're upset."

After a long moment, she visibly took a deep breath and seemed to calm down. " Felix, you need to tell me what the story is. I need to know how we're getting out of here."

He wanted to smile, despite how much his face hurt. She was looking every inch of the officer she was trying so hard to be and asking exactly the right question. That question wasn't coming from his friend, but from the fleet officer who had a mission. An important mission, more important than getting him out to the resistance. Dualla had to get out, not just because he wanted her to, but because someone had to get the military people back to the fleet. It convinced him that she wasn't going to be stupid about the escape. If only one of them could get away, and he was pretty certain that he wasn't going to physically make it to the rally point Starbuck had chosen, then Dee would do the hard thing. For the mission.

" There's a map in your bag," he said quickly. "We have to change the plan a little, but it's still usable. You and I are going to walk to the gate. I have a pass to leave the town whenever I have business at the punishment camp. I… I forged President Baltar's name on some papers and if you're with me, they'll just assume you're my assistant. The punishment camp is a half mile away and I don't rate a vehicle unless its an emergency. The road is heavily wooded and patrolled…. I was going to take you out from under the fence but that only works if you go alone." And he didn't think that he could convince her to do that, not yet. "But we can slip into the woods at the half way point. We have to go through a swamp about five miles to a series of caves and then… we wait for pick up." He fumbled through his bookshelf and came up with a small hand held computer. " I downloaded all of our surveys of the planet into this. You take it… I know them."

"We're just going to casually trot off the road into the woods? That's… actually not bad. How heavily patrolled is the road?" As she spoke she directed him over to the chair and had him sit down. Or maybe he almost fell. He was definitely feeling dizzy. Dee tapped his face. " The road, Felix, how heavily patrolled is it?"

" The road… There's a guard change over every hour… I wanted us to go later at night… more of the guards are off, but if we time it just right, we have a window of…. Of fifteen minutes." It just hurt so much to think. " We should go soon though…. It's not safe…" 

Dualla nodded. " I'll finish packing your bag, ok? I think you need to rest up for as long as you can."

He wanted to protest but the headache was just unbearable. 

0o0o0o0o0

There was no way, Dualla thought worriedly, that Felix was going to walk five miles through a swamp. He was injured, not catastrophically, but just enough that escape was going to be next to impossible. She had a feeling he wasn't even connecting all the dots to what she was doing. If anything, he was trying his best to think of ways to keep her alive while completely ignoring himself. They couldn't leave until full darkness was on, and she had quickly taken over packing his bag when he got diverted by looking for the guns.

She had already found the guns, earlier in the day while waiting for him to get back. They were under the floor boards, in the bathroom, with a lot of extra ammunition. That Felix was hiding five service pistols… He wasn't just obeying and trying to survive. Add in the beating he had suffered, and she had a pretty good feeling that Felix Gaeta hadn't been the collaborator she had originally thought.

It didn't change the situation, but it made her feel better. It meant things wouldn't be difficult once they got back. If they got back.

His plan was good, and if he wasn't beaten into a pulp, it would work. As it was, Dualla was afraid that he simply wasn't going to be able to walk to the town gate, let alone a half mile further. Five miles through a swamp… It scared her.

She forced those thoughts away as she put Felix's few photographs in her bag. He had hardly any personal items, just the photos and some books. He wasn't paying attention to packing. She was pretty certain that she could have filled his bag with rocks and he would have numbly accepted it. What he needed was rest and a doctor.

At the same time, there was no way she was going to leave him. She had no doubt at all that he was in trouble, and if she left him, he would be killed. Plus, despite his assurances about a map, she needed him. He knew the area and she didn't. And… she wasn't leaving him.

She grabbed what remained of the first aid things in the bathroom. Felix actually had mild painkillers, something she hadn't seen in years, and she knew she could get him to take a few. She also filled some plastic bottles with water. She had grown up near a wetlands zone on Sagitarra. Drinking swamp water was a great way to get very sick. Water, food, guns, ammunition, extra clothes, she thought in a rush. What else do we need that won't look suspicious, Dualla thought. Felix had a warm jacket and gloves and she pulled on one of his shirts and then a sweater that she found in the closet. He needs another shirt, she decided, picking a heavy sweatshirt for him to wear. She had been careful to fill his bag with civilian clothes. There were plenty of uniforms on the ships, and a colonial uniform was too suspicious to pack. Still, when she found his rank pins and medals neatly stored in his rolled up dress uniform sash, she took it and stuffed it into the small bag.

" Ok," she said as she handed him the sweatshirt, " I've got you packed. Put that on, and I want you to take some of these painkillers." She got him a glass of water as she spoke. He looked pretty bad, she thought critically, but better. The bleeding had stopped and she had washed most of the blood off. His skin was already darkening with bruises but with the blood gone, he just looked a little rough. It wouldn't last for long, it was just luck that his complexion covered it well. He was moving stiffly, like he hurt, but as she watched him don the sweater and his jacket, he didn't look bad. It might work.

As long as he didn't pass out or worse. He blinked at her as she handed him the knapsack. "Where are the guns?" He put a hand to his head. " What are we doing again?" He winced and she took his arm to steady him.

" We're getting out of here," she said forcefully. " You're going to help me escape and we're going to get back to the Galactica. And then you're going to plot jumps for us so we can get to Earth. We need you." She hesitated. " I need you, Felix." She let her fingers entwine around his. " So let's get out of here and get home."

0o0o0o0o0o0

It wasn't as bad as she thought. Felix was walking stiffly, but not limping or swaying and the waning twilight made the bruising harder to see. He seemed to get more mentally alert as they walked to the gate. She hoped that was a good sign. The guards at the gate were human but they were used to seeing Gaeta from what she could see. They were also used to seeing him look beat up, judging by their amused comments.

" Sure am glad I'm not on the president's staff," one of them scoffed as she looked over the paperwork Gaeta handed her. " At least out here, all we have to worry about is keeping warm."

" Every job has its good and bad side," Gaeta said easily. He smiled slightly. Dualla marveled. She could tell he was nervous only because she knew him so well. The slightly narrowed eyes, the pursed lips… It wasn't much different from his more typical, faintly haughty look of disapproval that he used liberally with underlings, but she knew the difference. 

The female guard handed the papers back with a smile. " What's going on out at the camp?"

The male guard, a hulking fellow, looked both of them over suspiciously. "You're going out pretty late." He eyed their small bags.

" I'm… spending the night." Gaeta frowned darkly. "There are some things to finish up… from the execution today, and I have to get an early start tomorrow." To the woman, he lowered his voice and took on a somehow contrite stance. " If we don't get things taken care of… I'll be on worse trouble than this." He gestured to his face. 

The male guard glared but the female nodded. " Back off, Steve," she said to her companion. To Gaeta she said, " You know the rules. Don't get cute with the guards, and you better check in after a half hour." She glanced over to Dualla. " Your little friend is new to the procedure. I trust she doesn't need any encouragement to stay on the road but I'm required, for everyone's safety, let you both know that leaving the road without a Cylon present is a capitol offense. You got that?"

That was directed to her, and Dualla nodded vigorously. She took Felix by the arm and they walked off. She waited until they were out of earshot before she asked, " That Steve… he was on the Astral Queen wasn't he?"

Gaeta nodded. " Murder, attempted murder… not a nice man." His eyes suddenly glittered with concern, and he squeezed her hand sharply when she began to speak again. " I know it's concerning but many former criminals have found really worthwhile work as security guards for the Cylons. It's good to see them learn how to be productive." His voice seemed unnaturally loud to her, but after a moment she realized it was intentional. He continued. " Don't be afraid of being outside the town wall. It's not like the Centurions wouldn't protect us. They could hear us yell for help. You remember what happened to that guy that tried to rob someone, don't you?"

"Yes," she said after a moment. She understood completely. People like Steve were given jobs that no one else would take because they were distasteful, violent jobs. People like Steve probably enjoyed their new jobs a great deal. And Gaeta was right, there were Centurions walking towards them in the dim light, their red eyes bobbing. They certainly could hear a call for help, or two people talking about things that they shouldn't be talking about if they were loyal members of the regime. And if the Centurions did get suspicious, the two of them would be dead in seconds.

And then they were quiet as the two Centurions passed them. Gaeta picked up the speed of their walking. She knew as they were getting close to the break point. Gaeta was getting nervous, looking back and then forward. Suddenly he pulled her to the side of the road. The brush was thick and the woods were dark.

" There's no fence," he said breathlessly. " They don't need one. The swamp… I helped do a survey of the life forms. We have to move as fast as we can. The Cylons will be alerted in twenty minutes…"

" Let's go," she said firmly. I have to do this, she thought as she pulled Gaeta into the woods. She could see in his eyes that he was reaching the limit of his strength. He'd been sick, and not eating well for months, she had thought so as soon as she had seen him. It was just a few days ago, and it felt like forever. Something had been going on, something that had made the Cylons suspicious of him and it wasn't just her presence. He was sick and frightened, and had been so for months and the bruises on his face just made the problem more obvious.

It was her job to get him back to the fleet, her duty. More than that, he was her friend… her lover… and she wasn't going to leave a man that she loved behind. Not when it had been made clear to her that he loved her almost beyond reason. Had she asked him to stay behind, to cover her escape, she knew he'd do it. " We should run, if you can." 

He nodded, but she could see the blank, glazed look settling into his eyes. " I'm all right," he said after a moment. " Once we're into the swamp… they won't follow us."

There was unspoken dread in his voice but she ignored it. "Lets run then."

0o0o0o0o0

For a few terrifying moments, they ran at full speed straight into the gloom, Dualla's neck tingling with the sensation that they were being chased, when she knew full well there was no one behind them. Yet.

But it wouldn't hurt getting a good head start. Fallen branches crunched beneath their boots and she could hear Gaeta's labored breathing rasping through the damp air. Dee forced herself to ignore it and keep the initial burst going, at least until they reached an area that looked dense enough to discourage pursuers. Slowing to a fast stride, Dee turned around to make sure Felix was all right.

He was still upright, but not exactly what she'd call 'all right.' His eyes were huge with distress and his face was moon pale, frightening her. "Take my hand," she ordered, grasping onto his cold fingers tightly when he obeyed. "Now, we just need to find this swamp of yours ..."

Felix pointed toward a nearby patch of what looked like fog. "It's over there. It has a haze surrounding it, probably ambient gases. They're non-toxic, well, at least they won't kill you the minute you breathe them in." Wincing with pain, probably from a stitch in his ribs, he nodded to her waistpack. "There's a knife in there. You might want to take it out now, just in case."

"In case of what?" she asked, her nose wrinkling against the heavy swamp smell thickening through the air around them.

"Vine tangles, inaccessible paths ... " Felix paused. "Other stuff."

"Great," she muttered. Out of nowhere, something slithered over the toe of her boot. It was gone before she could see what it was and Dee was rather proud of herself for not shrieking and leaping into Felix's tired arms. "What kind of 'other stuff'?"

Felix sighed as he limped along beside her. "Let's just say that a few of the surveyors we sent out here, didn't come back."

With a shudder, Dualla pulled the knife out from her belt pack, clipping its sheath onto her waistband. She was no great expert using a knife in combat situations, not like some of the pilots were, most of whom were trained to use anything and everything as a weapon, but if something popped out, having a sharp object ready in hand was better than nothing. She knew that Felix's only experience with a knife was to cut errant wires out from the CIC's consoles and besides, he was barely in good enough shape to make it to the other side of the swampland, without any hindrances.

Maybe a prayer to the goddess to keep all things, great and small, slimy and furry far away from them would be the best bet of all. She clung even more tightly to Felix's hand, trying not to trip over anything sticking up from the unstable ground. The mud made sucking sounds with every pull of her boots as something above them hooted. A sharp pinch to her neck and Dee's slapped at it with annoyance, hoping that the biting bugs here were no more than a simple nuisance, like they'd been at home. 

The swamp's methane odor turned oppressive, filling her mouth with an unpleasant taste, making her head ache. She fought against the urge to spit, knowing it wouldn't do any good. Besides, she didn't have fluid to waste, as it had taken them nearly half an hour to go half a mile, at least according to the small handheld geographical locater Felix had smartly instructed her to sneak into her bra before they'd left. That was the one item that couldn't have been afforded to be found on their persons, as it held secret maps and surveys of the entire area, another important type of information the Cylons were intent on controlling, as knowledge the terrain was the lifeblood of the rebellion.

It would also be useful in case the Admiral decided to mount an invasion, she thought, holding onto it tightly. It's digital LED display gave off enough dull light to provide them with enough illumination to see a couple of feet ahead, but not enough to give them away, at least from a distance. It's spooky out here, she had to admit silently, clutching Felix's hand a little more tightly. All right, more than a little spooky, with all the noises and slimy ground and awful smells and slithery, splashing, scratching ...

"I can't feel my fingers anymore, Dee." Gently, and he wiggled them as Dee loosened her grip. "How far have we gone?"

She squinted at the reader. "Three-quarters of a mile. It says we're getting closer to a body of water. But I can't see ..." She stopped, as her foot sunk up to the ankle in wetness. She looked down and saw the lapping edge of something that wasn't exactly a puddle. "Okay. We're at the water."

"This is where it gets fun," Felix said, grimacing with pain as he bent close to check out the reader. "We need to get around this, but the path hasn't been mapped precisely. Guess no one figured it was worth it, as the Cylons weren't going to let anyone onto the other side. However ... there is a way around this. A secret way."

Dee looked at him in askance. "A secret way?"

Felix nodded, clutching at his side, as he pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and bent at the waist to examine the nearby trees. "The rebels carved markers into the trees and rocks, giving directions along the path. We just have to find them and figure them out. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure we're not going to get arrows with "THIS WAY" written beneath them."

She regarded him curiously. "How do you know this?"

He glanced up at her, his mouth tight. "It was my job to know these things. It's always been my job ... to know." Playing the light over the surrounding foliage, he pointed to a seemingly innocuous swirl of ash on a high piece of gray slate. "That's the first one. We head due north from here, one mile."

"Okay," Dee replied, squinting at what appeared to be nothing but some sticky dirt on a rock. "Where do you see that?"

"It's a crude DRADIS graph, leveled straight up. There's no 'north' in space, but I'm assuming they don't mean for us to flap our arms and start flying. The 'one' is upside down underneath ... ancient Picon numerics."

Dualla gaped. Slowly, the marker became clearer and she'd be damned if he wasn't right. Gods, she would have died in this place if left to her own devices because while she knew DRADIS enough to get by in a pinch, her ancient Picon numerals had been long ignored in favor of the cute boy sitting at the next desk in middle school. And that's assuming she would have seen the marker in the first place, which, somehow, she doubted.

Glancing back, Felix tugged at her arm. He looked worse, pained winces with every step, but he kept pulling her forward through the brush, the water's edge just to their left. It wasn't exactly a lake, not even a skim of a puddle from the looks of it, but Dualla knew that swamps could be deceptive. One false step and you'd be in up to your waist, warm bait for whatever hungry things were waiting for the first foolish creature to cross into their territory. Or, worse, over your head and stuck thigh deep in glue-like mud, with no chance of escape. 

The darkness didn't help matters. She was getting used to the smell, but now there were things hitting them on every side, plants with sharp-edged leaves, scratching at any exposed bit of skin, snagging on her sweater, the knit one she'd stupidly worn. After a more than a dozen catches, she shucked it off with a frustrated noise, leaving it hanging on a giant thorn.

"You might want that later," Gaeta warned. "It can get bitterly cold here at night."

"I don't plan on being here longer than tonight, thank you," she grumbled, hoping her face wasn't getting scratched beyond recognition.

They kept trudging forward and after a while, Dee couldn't tell if they were going forward or in circles, as their entire world seemed an endless struggle through mud and harsh foliage, the animal noises echoing in maddening repetition, croaks and screeches, low moans and yelps, warning them away. Dee felt more claustrophobic than she'd ever felt in her life, even after years spent aboard a spaceship. It was oppressive and she found herself wandering a little away from the straight path Felix was intent on forging for them, the locator held tightly in his slightly trembling hand.

It wasn't much, just a little bit to her left ...

But it was enough. With a shriek, Dualla suddenly found herself flailing and sinking into something that not only wasn't stable, it was _pulling_ her down, like a vacuum outside an airlock. Perhaps not that fast, but fast enough as she was already up to her chest and ...

"Stop struggling!" Gaeta screamed at her. "Float!"

"Felix ... I can't!" she gulped, trying to obey, but it wasn't working. 

"Yes, you can, Ensign. That's a frakkin' order!" he cried furiously, as sounds of ripping foliage echoed around her. 

Something reflexive in her brain snapped at the order, forcing her to stop moving her arms and keep them still, even when a few seconds later, a mouthful of grit nearly choked her. _Float. Relax. Float._ she chanted inwardly, willing her body to relax with superhuman effort. Suddenly, her sinking slowed to a crawl and she felt herself bob up, just enough to keep her head above the suffocating dirt.

"I'm throwing this over your shoulder and pulling it toward me. Grab it when it hits your hand," Felix commanded hoarsely. "Then hold on and _don't let go_."

Dee wanted to gasp at him that it was too dark, she was too far down, it was too late ... but when she felt the scratching vine whiz over her shoulder, she forced herself to pay attention and grabbed at it with everything she possessed. The leaves were jagged and she felt them ripping into her palm, but she grit her teeth and held on. It was slow going at first, faster when her other arm was freed and she tried not to quail at Gaeta's terrible struggling noises as he pulled her out.

Finally, the last grip on her was released and she tumbled forward, into his arms, knocking them both over. Dualla was crying and laughing all at once, as beneath her Gaeta wheezed for breath, his shaking arms slowly wrapping around her. "You never did watch were you were going, did you?" he gasped, holding onto her tightly.

"Nope," she replied, sniffling and trembling in the embrace. "I never did."

0o0o0o0o0

The next two miles were easier in some ways, even if Gaeta was starting to stumble every few steps from exhaustion, made worse by the exertion spent in pulling her out of the swamp pit. Dualla felt the night chill seeping straight into her bones after her wet dip and she regretted the loss of her sweater, but that didn't matter now that they were getting close.

They _had_ to be getting close, she prayed, wondering if the Cylons had twigged onto their escape by now and were already beginning the hunt. On two occasions she thought she heard the drone of a Raider skimming overhead, its lights off, but she shook that thought away as paranoid fancy. Even if they knew they'd made a run for it, would they really be that concerned? They were two nobodies ... all right, she was a nobody, but they didn't seem to like or trust Gaeta that much so would it really be all that important if he'd taken a run into the supposedly deadly swamp? Would they really care?

Dualla tried to keep this cheerful deceit in mind, until she remembered Cally and all thoughts of an easy escape disappeared.

"We have to move faster," Gaeta rasped. He was clutching his side, bent awkwardly over his ribs and she wondered if he'd been hurt internally. "Once sunrise hits, the resistance fighters will go back into their retreat, no matter what. They can't risk daytime maneuvers."

"We're almost there, aren't we?" Dualla grasped his arm and pulled it over her shoulder, in an effort to help him. He was sagging and heavy and she heard that drone again, this time unmistakable. There _were_ Raiders on the hunt and the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight on end. She unconsciously pulled Gaeta forward a step faster, pausing when he groaned sharply. "Do you want to rest?"

He closed his eyes. "I don't want to, but I have to. I'm sorry, Dee. You know ... you can go on ahead and I can meet you there. It's really not that far."

"You've got to be kidding. I'm not leaving you here." She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper as gingerly, she lowered him to the ground, helping him to lean his back against a sturdy tree. "Did you hear that Raider? I think they're looking for us."

Gaeta's throat worked harshly. He doesn't look well at all, she thought, rubbing his cold hand between her only-slightly warmer ones. "I hope they aren't equipped with the same kind of life-form sensors ours are. That'll give our little adventure a very unhappy ending."

Sensors. She hadn't even thought of that, but then again ... "The Cylons concept of exactly what 'living' entails is pretty shaky. I doubt they'd put sensors like that in a sentient Cylon ship."

He raised an eyebrow at her. For the first time all night, a grin crossed his face. "I dare say, Lieutenant, that's a very logical assumption. Did they teach you this mode of thinking in those officer training classes aboard the _Pegasus_?"

"What officer training classes?" she scoffed. "I got a used uniform and a new headset. That was my 'training'." She sighed, glancing up at the patches of sky visible above the swaying trees. It wasn't light yet, no, but it was starting to take on that slightly lighter gloss of blackness heralding very early morning. And if the Resistance didn't come out to play during the daylight ... "I think you were right, Felix. We should get a move on. Can you stand?"

For a long moment, he looked searchingly at her. Something was mulling over inside his brain and Dee didn't want to know, didn't want to hear about any more self-sacrifice so she did the only thing she could do ... she took his face between both her hands and kissed him, hard. She waited and didn't stop kissing him until his mouth opened beneath hers, until there was little else _but_ that kiss and she allowed herself to get lost in it, just for a moment.

Finally, he pulled away, breathless. "Yeah ... I can stand," he said, his eyes shining with a renewed determination. "And walk."

She smiled, touching her forehead to his. "I thought you'd say that." With a groan, she straightened out her cramped legs and hauled Felix up to his feet. He rose gingerly, but eventually, he was standing on his own.

The sky was definitely starting to lighten but Felix wobbled onward beside her. _We're going to make it,"_ she thought, with a joy verging on hysteria. _"We're going ..._

It was then the world around them exploded. A low-flying Raider, spraying indiscriminate shots through the middle of the swamp, set a swath of foliage on blazing fire in a circle around them. Flash of almost unbearable heat and the breath-taking shock of Felix throwing himself atop her to shield her was the last thing Dee felt before the world went dark, her eyes closed against the mud.

More Raiders, screaming low and firing into the greenery and just as Dee was certain they were going to die, the firing stopped. It must have been a 'get lucky' strike, she thought, trembling and coughing with every inhale of smoky air. When she dared to open her eyes, she could see the fire crackling all around them, already dying out from the natural wetness that covered everything in the swamp. They weren't going to be burned alive and that was a relief, but if those Raiders came back ...

"Felix," she said, struggling to sit up, the weight of him pinning her there, until she was able to roll him off, praying he hadn't been hit by a Raider blast. She wiped the mud away from her eyes and mouth before attending to him, noticing with relief that he appeared uninjured by the blast. He was lying flat on his back, staring at the treetops, silent, but blinking, obviously in shock. She scrambled to her feet and held her hand out to him. "We have to get out of here. We're not that far, I know we're not. Come on ... please ... get up."

There was something not right. He was horribly white, the nerves of his face twitching randomly. Again, she motioned for him to take her hand, but when he did she could see the blood running down his wrist. It wasn't a lot and when she knelt down to examine it, wiping away the blood and mud ... she saw it.

A bite mark. Just two small holes, hardly anything to look at, but she knew right away what it was. A snake bite. Probably from a terrified reptile lashing out at the first thing that it came into contact with as the Raiders attacked and she stared at him in horror. From the looks of it, the bite was likely poisonous. "Felix?"

His mouth was moving, but there was no sound coming out.

"Felix!" she cried, her panic rising as she thought about all the ways -- and how quickly -- one could die from a poisonous bite. "You can't do this. Please, we are so close ..." No answer, it was too late and she started to cry, even after she swore she wouldn't. She couldn't, but ... "Do not do this to me," she said thickly, choking on the words. "Don't you _dare_ leave me here like this. Do you hear me? Don't you _dare_." Dee's hands flailed against his chest. "Please ..."

While all around them, there was silence.

Except ...


	6. Chapter 6

While all around them, there was silence. Except ...

Except for the sudden rustling sound of someone running towards their position. Before she could even fumble for her gun though, two camouflaged figures were at her side. The resistance, she thought numbly as she realized that it was Chief Tyrol underneath the dark greasepaint. He hovered over her, taking in the situation, his surprise at seeing them plain on his face, while his companion, Kara Thrace, dropped to her knees at Dee's side.

" Frakking hell, what happened?" Kara asked, running her hands down Gaeta's body in a brisk motion. 

This is help, Dualla thought, we're so close. " Something bit him, on the hand." The bite was swelling, and she could see, even in the seconds that had passed, that Felix's breathing was getting shallow. The facial twitching increased and his blinking seemed oddly random.

"Gimme the kit, Chief!" Kara snarled. She took the proffered kit and withdrew a needle. Without hesitation, she jammed the needle into Felix's neck. Dee didn't know what frightened her more, the sight of Kara Thrace plunging a needle into Felix's neck or that he had no real reaction to it. Kara thumbed the plunger home, injecting him with some dark liquid. Horrified as she was, she could see whatever it was help within seconds. At least, the twitching stopped, and it was obvious that his breathing was stronger.

" You've got the right name, Felix, you've got the luck of the gods," Kara muttered as she continued checking him over. She turned to Dualla, her eyes bright under the camouflage makeup. " Couple more minutes, the anti-venom wouldn't have worked. He's hurt. Is that what took so long? Are you hurt? Can you walk? Run? Running is best."

" I can run, but what about Felix?" Because it was becoming obvious that the anti-venom was not a miracle cure. Gaeta wasn't moving, although his eyes seemed more alert.

" Chief? Give her your gun. We need to move." To Dualla, she said softly, " Tyrol will carry him. Take the gun, and follow me. Gaeta told me that you knew the position of the Galactica. It better be true."

He told you? Dee wondered, when did he tell you anything? How did he tell you anything? Suddenly, the oddness of his behavior, the seemingly unbearable stress, the pathetic way he was existing on New Caprica… It had been a lie.

Kara shook her. " Don't flake out," she warned. " We are not home free."

0o0o0o0o0

A mug of bitter smelling herbal tea was put in her hands. Dualla tried to push it away, but Tyrol made her put both hands on the mug and steered her over to a rickety chair. " You need to sit down, Dee," he said gently. " Lt. Gaeta will be all right. Those snakes are a bitch," and he rolled up a sleeve to show her well healed bite marks on his arm, " but if you get the anti-venom in time, you do ok. He's not gonna feel good for a while, but he's tough. A lot tougher than I thought. Starbuck's gonna debrief you in a minute." He paused. "It's good to see you, Dee."

"It's good to see you too, Chief." There was so much pain in his eyes, she knew without having to think about it, that he knew about Cally. She hoped he didn't know the details. She sipped the bitter tea, and wondered what was really going on.

The rebel camp was very carefully hidden in a steep valley. There were no buildings, and hardly any tents. She was in the command tent, a meager canvas structure covered in leafy boughs and vines. It was open, open enough that she could look into the tent that served as the infirmary. Dr. Cottle had been haggard looking, but he had still snapped at her to leave when he began to work over Felix. Outside of the command tent, there was no movement except for a rare furtive person running from firing position to firing position. The rebels lived, all military personnel as near as she could tell, in foxholes and firing positions. A desperate way to live, but at least they were free. She could already breathe freer, and she could feel the camaraderie in the smiles the messengers running in and out of the command tent gave her, in Tyrol's concerned look. She didn't know how Gaeta had stood being so alone. Because he had been alone, more alone than anyone deserved to be.

Kara strode in, followed by Briscoe and Logan, two of the better ECOs. "All right. We don't have a lot of time. The Cylons are pissing themselves over you and Gaeta walking out under their noses. We need the coordinates. We're getting the Raptors prepped and we're moving this afternoon if we can get everyone loaded but I need the coordinates now so that we can everyone prepped and ready to jump on takeoff. If necessary." 

Dualla nodded understanding. Jumping in atmosphere was dangerous, and needed to be prepped well ahead of time. She quickly gave up the cherished coordinates. The sooner they left, the sooner the people were back in action on the battlestars.

Kara dismissed the ECOs with a firmness that Dee didn't remember. She didn't quite recognize the woman who looked so serious and who commanded the people around her with respect and determination. She looked over Dualla, her eyes grim and then suddenly they sparkled with joy. " So who the hell thought it was a good idea to send you down here? Lee? I bet it was Lee." She grinned, in that horsy, tomboy way she had, and then laughed. " It was Lee!"

For a moment, it was infectious, and Dee found herself smiling despite herself. " Are we leaving soon?" she asked.

Kara nodded. " It's the Raptors that take time. They're hidden carefully. We've got two at this site, for the people here, and the rest spread out with the other groups. It'll be safer too, if we all take off at the same time in different locations. It'll baffle the Cylons. Fortunately, Gaeta's managed to obfuscate our numbers, supplies and positions for the last four months so the Cylons won't be expecting an escape." She chuckled. " If we're lucky, they won't realize they've got so many Raptors missing from the books until we're in the air." She took in Dualla's surprised look. " You have no idea what I'm talking about do you? What Lt. Felix Gaeta, military attaché to President Baltar has been up to for the last few months?"

That was the Starbuck she knew, and didn't always like. Smug and playing games about knowing more than anyone else, that was Kara. " He told me that he was just trying to survive, and that he was helping me because we were friends." And had done a damn good job of fooling her, she realized. Suddenly so much of his furtive, stressed out behavior made sense. Suddenly, she realized that she had been making the wrong assumption about Felix and his job on New Caprica. " He's been working for the resistance this entire time, hasn't he?"

Kara nodded. " And he didn't tell you a thing. Just in case. The more people who knew, the more likely that he'd be found out. No one knew. I was the only one who knew who our source was on the inside until today. Even the ones who escaped didn't know where the help was coming from. But that's why I need to debrief you. When we discussed getting you out, he wasn't planning on coming with you. What changed?"

" I don't know exactly what happened. It seemed like he was… favored. And he wasn't going to help me, he said it was too risky, but then he changed his mind." Dee thought about for a moment, the point where Felix had suddenly decided to help her. He hadn't been willing to risk it, and she was starting to understand why. He had been using his position to help as many people as he could. "The Cylons were worried about his health. He had a medical exam. He was really upset after it, and that's when he changed his mind."

" A medical exam," Kara murmured. "That explains it a bit. And he didn't tell me that he was examined." At Dualla's quizzical look, she shrugged. " He told me that he had overheard the Cylons talking about a long term plan to manipulate the human race by breeding. I wonder how close to home that hit him. He hadn't been taking care of himself, I knew that, and when he told me that the Cylons were prepping their chosen pawns for breeding, I wondered if he was on the list."

Dualla thought about the pills, and the protein shakes and the sudden turn around. " I think it's a safe assumption. But, they were getting wise to him. One of them beat him up pretty badly yesterday." 

"That's nothing new, Dee." Kara said it gently. " He's lucky. Some of Baltar's staff got beaten to death. He didn't talk about it much, but he got smacked around a lot, they all did." 

" It wasn't a smacking around," said a new, gruff voice said. They both looked up as Dr. Cottle strode into the tent. He looked grim. " The snake venom is wearing off, but it's going to be an hour at least before he's able to move or walk. He's sleeping now anyway." He looked at Dualla with respect. " You did good. He didn't get here without help. I'm surprised he could walk at all." To Kara, he added, " He was beaten to within an inch of his life, he's physically exhausted, and I'm pretty certain he's been seriously ill for a while. Stress can do that. But there's a bigger problem."

" Bigger problem?" Dee felt sick to her stomach. Felix was in bad shape. She didn't know what could be worse.

"He's sick. His temperature is rising, and he's congested. It looks like pneumonia. I'm doing what I can, but you know how much I've got to work with. He must've picked up something in that damn swamp, and he's in no shape to fight it off." Cottle shrugged. " It's touch and go without antibiotics. I'll pump him full of fluids, and we can all pray that the fever burns itself out." The tone of his voice suggested that it was unlikely to work, but before she could ask questions, he left the command tent.

"We've got about two hours before the escape," Kara said after a moment. " You could sack out for a bit. You look beat."

" No… I should check on Felix." If he was sick, if there was a chance he was going to die, she would be damned if he was alone.

Kara looked at her intently, knowingly, and then nodded. " He deserves that. That and more. Believe me when I tell you that I know he's been living in hell compared to us. I need to go. You know where the med tent is." She rose to her feet. " I need to get moving."

" Kara… wait… where is Sam?" It seemed odd to not see Sam Anders. As much as she had been annoyed with Kara and her rarely subtle attempts to make up with Lee, Kara had never gone further than try to rekindle their friendship. She had been in love with Sam, that was something Dee had never doubted. And Sam, to give him credit, had been devoted to Kara.

A shadow fell across Kara Thrace's face. " He died, Dee. He was sick, when the Cylons came and we ran that night and there was no medicine." Then, as if realizing she had said too much, she quickly looked away. " We didn't hook up with Dr. Cottle until a week later. It was just me and Tyrol, Sam, and some of the nuggets and we didn't know what to do."

Dualla nodded, but didn't accept it. Sam had died, died of some sickness, some sickness that could just as easily kill Felix. More easily, if she thought about it. Sam had been an athlete and in fairly good shape, better than most people in the fleet. Definitely, he had been in better shape than Felix, who had looked ill from the moment she had set eyes on him.

Kara was trying to avoid speaking an ugly truth. If Felix was sick, there was a good chance he was going to die.

0o0o0o0o0

He didn't feel well. Not at all. He couldn't ever remember feeling so awful and there had been plenty of crappy moments in the last months. He felt limp and exhausted and every breath felt wet and bubbly. He was lying on a cot and it hurt, every inch of his body ached and throbbed, especially his head, which hadn't stopped hurting since the night before. He couldn't really move, not yet, and trying not to panic about it was keeping him from real sleep.

Worse, he was hot. Too hot. Gaeta knew he was in a tent, he could see the canvas ceiling and it was still New Caprica. New Caprica was cold. He felt hot and damp, like there was steam rising off of his wet clothes. Dee was there, and she was holding his hand and wiping his brow with a wet cloth. He was sick, and it was hard to not panic about that too. There were a lot of ways to end up dead on New Caprica. He let his fingers curl around Dee's hand. There were worse things than dying, he had learned that on New Caprica as well. Dualla would be safe. He let his eyes close. He was so tired.

"Is he asleep?" That was Cottle, and Gaeta almost opened his eyes but it was just too hot.

"I can't tell," Dualla said in response. Her hand rested on his forehead. " He's burning up, but he was squeezing my hand a little while ago." 

"We're going. Get your things and his, and you can help me get him to the Raptor." Cottle shook him roughly. " Open your eyes, son. I'm not running a nursery school and this is not naptime."

The shaking hurt, but when he tried to protest, all he could do was weakly grab Cottle's hands. Cottle smirked at him. " Trust me, you're not going to be able to complain for a few hours yet. You were bitten by one of the swamp snakes, do you understand me?"

Gaeta nodded, although he felt somewhat out of control doing so. The swamp snake venom paralyzed it's victim and even with the anti-venom Cottle had made, the effects were slow to wear off. Cottle was alluding to the fact that typically, while gross motor control returned fairly quickly, a bite victim's ability to speak didn't resume for a day or so. But the fever, and the way he couldn't seem to catch his breath scared him. He was sick, and they were trying to keep him cool, and Cottle had even given him an IV. Dee was there as well, looking worried as she held his small bag and jacket with hers. Both were nothing but gentle as they dragged him to his feet and to the waiting Raptor. He needed the help, there was no denying that. If he hadn't had Cottle and Dualla wrapping their arms around his body, he suspected he'd be crawling. Scratch that, he thought as Chief Tyrol grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him up into the Raptor, I'd be dead.

"Where do you want the lieutenant?" Tyrol asked.

" Not on the floor," Cottle warned as he got in. Tyrol nodded and gently set Gaeta in one of the few seats. Dualla sat down beside him and did the safety straps up for him, gently moving his fumbling hands out of the way. 

"Don't worry," she said softly, her eyes bright with worry. " You're going to feel better soon." She put her arm around his shoulders. It wasn't me, Felix wanted to say, it's about you being safe. That was all he wanted, and as the raptor took off, he couldn't help but feel relief. He was sick, he was probably going to die because there was no medicine left, but Dee would be safe, and he was holding her hand….

And as the Raptor shuddered on take off, he remembered the pills. The pills in his jacket, the pills he had been given by the Cylons. For the viral infection that caused his ulcers, and the pills were antibiotics that he hadn't taken. The jacket, and the bag Dualla had packed for him was at his feet and he didn't have enough motor control to reach down and pick it up, and he couldn't tell Dualla to check the jacket. Not for hours, and by the way he was feeling, hours might be too late.

In a less deathly situation, the irony would have made him laugh.

0o0o0o0o0

"Everyone hold on to something!" Kara called back. " We've got a Raider on our tail!"

Dualla found herself hugging Felix close as the ship rocked through the atmosphere. The Raider was close, judging by the many twists and turns Kara gave the Raptor, and the small space on the ship was jampacked with people and supplies. The small ship shuddered violently as it went through the atmosphere. She watched in horror as the Raider bore down on them and then felt the suddenly reassuring twist in her stomach as the small ship jumped. The plan had been to jump to a rally point and then jump to the battlestars and that meant that they were almost home. The relief on everyone's faces was obvious. Even Felix looked relieved, although his face was wet with sweat and the bruises the Cylon had left were starting to blacken and mar his features.

" It's going to be all right," she whispered to him. He looked at her, his eyes dark with worry. She could hear him breathing, and coughing. It's not fair, she thought angrily, it is not fair to let him get so close and then take him. She realized what a fool she had been. Felix Gaeta had loved her for years, had watched from a distance because of his position and hers. She realized, almost too late, that he had been risking everything to help her, that he had been willing to die to protect her. He wanted her, and he needed her, and that was something she had never felt with Lee Adama. Felix loved her, and wanted her, and wasn't using her as some sort of stand in for the person he really loved. She had been a fool, made worse by the fact that there was nothing she could do for him. " Don't worry," she murmured, "We're almost there."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly and then he did something strange. He reached down to where she had put his bag and jacket. He couldn't reach it, because of the seat belt, and he looked at her intently.

" Do you want your jacket?" she asked wonderingly. There was no way he could be cold. Sitting next to him was like sitting next to a blast furnace. He was dripping wet from fever, she could see the wet stains on his clothes. " Felix, you're burning up. You don't need a jacket."

He shook his head. It was obvious he wanted to say something to her, but couldn't. Instead, he reached for the jacket again, and then began fumbling with the seat belt. She stopped him, the Raptor was rocking too much and he was barely keeping upright with it on. It must be the fever, she thought worriedly. " No, you're too hot, you don't need a jacket."

" Let him have his jacket, Dee," Cottle said suddenly. The older man was sitting across from them. " It won't hurt him. He might be having fever chills." Cottle's eyes gave her a warning and he gestured around. After a moment, she understood. If Felix was behaving irrationally from the fever, it was better, for the sake of everyone, to keep him calm. If he got out of the seat belt, they were in cramped conditions and people could be hurt. That was the last thing they needed.

Reluctantly, she handed him the jacket. Much to her surprise, he didn't immediately use it to cover himself but instead began pawing through the pockets. She could see the triumph, the sheer relief in his eyes as he withdrew a plastic bottle of pills from the front pocket. He carefully handed them to her, obviously expecting her to do something.

She looked at the bottle, remembering the conversation they had days earlier. He had said they were vitamins, but they didn't look like vitamins, and the label indicated it was some sort of medication. " Dr. Cottle… what is arithomanicin?" 

Cottle looked up with interest and gestured for her to hand it to him. He opened the bottle and shook out two of the pills, examining them intently. " It's a heavy duty antibiotic. It was new, we didn't have any on board. It was developed for explorer teams. It can knock out an infection in hours, according to the journals." He looked at the pills and then at Felix, and then got up and took up a position in front of the sick man. " Felix, listen to me. Did the Cylons give you this prescription?"

Felix nodded, but Dualla could see that he was started to fade away. " Felix, they thought you were sick, didn't they? Because you were throwing up, and not eating, and they didn't want you sick. They had plans for you." He nodded again. To Cottle, she said, "I think they're good."

"It's risky," Cottle said after a moment. "Starbuck told me about some of their plans. This looks like arithomanicin, but it's just as easily a fertility drug. Or a tranquilizer. On the other hand, we don't have the three days it'll take to test the stuff. Or the testing equipment." He held up a canteen. " Think you could take one of these with some water, Mr. Gaeta?"

After a moment, Felix nodded. He took the pill and then closed his eyes. Dualla watched him worriedly, but he seemed spent. The Raptor was deathly quiet except for the hum of the engines and the occasional barked order from Kara.

"All right," Kara called from her seat up in front. " All ten Raptors made it and we are preparing to jump to the Galactica. Everyone get seated, tied down, whatever. One more jump and we're home." A ragged cheer went up. Dualla took Felix's hand and began to pray as the jump twisted inside her. It wasn't so much to ask, she thought. Just let me have him back.

He sighed deeply, and she could feel the tension leaving his body. She put her hand to his forehead, inwardly cursing herself for believing such an old wives tale, but he did feel cooler, his breathing easier. It couldn't really be working that fast, but then Cottle did the same thing, checking Felix's temperature with a touch.

"Don't get overly excited," he said seriously, " but his fever is dropping."

Dualla nodded. She learned over and whispered into Felix's ear. " Did you hear that? Don't quit on me now, Felix."

His eyes stayed closed, and there was no verbal response, but his fingers gave hers one last squeeze.

For some reason, even there, in the tilted black warp of hyperspace, it felt as if she were already home.

0o0o0o0o0

The next few weeks were a whirl of debriefings and muted celebration as old comrades greeted one another with joy at their reunion and tears for those left behind and lost. Dualla had been hailed as a returning heroine, at least by the CIC crew, including the Admiral and even Lee had greeted her with a smile brighter than any she'd seen from him in months.

But even that bright smiled paled in comparison to his reaction to Kara's presence. The sheer heat ... this undeniable _thing_ that burned between them, sparked the second they laid eyes on each other and like two magnets clicking together, they were what they'd always been. Lovers in spirit, if not in body and Dualla felt oddly lacking in emotion when she walked off to leave them alone to their inevitable - no doubt passionate - reunion.

Neither one of them noticed her leaving.

But that was all right. It wasn't as if she were left bereft. There was someone waiting for her, always, even if that someone was still recovering in the sick bay, but getting better by the day. She had to smile, hearing him complain to Ishay that he wasn't sick enough to be lying around like a lump; that he was needed in the CIC and that there was going to be a battle he had to help plan, damn it, and she'd better not think of poking him with that tranquilizer needle ...

"We sound lively today ... sir," Dualla said to Gaeta, taking the water cup and pills from an annoyed Ishay, who handed them both to her with a 'good riddance' gesture before stalking away. "Although aggravating yours nurses is a good way to get that cold water enema Cottle is always threatening people with."

"This is ridiculous, Dee," Felix fumed. The bruises were fading and his eyes were as bright and full of life as she'd ever seen them, surprising considering how close to death he'd come when first brought aboard. His cheekbones were still showing, but with a steady diet of food and rest, the natural fullness of his face was slowly returning, thank the gods. "You know how much there is to do before we attempt invasion. I have to plot the co-ords, time the first and second waves, ready the all-terrain crews and ... " He stopped only to accept the medicine she held emphatically toward him, washing it down with a gulp of water. "And stop calling me 'sir'. We're equally ranked now."

She couldn't help the smile that curved her lips. "Not for long."

He coughed a little, but immediately straightened up to look her in the eye. "What are you talking about?"

"Rumor mill, nothing that important," she replied, still grinning.

"You're getting a promotion?" He smiled back at her, his brown eyes shining in the most _delightful_ way. "You know, if you need a testimonial ..."

"Oh gods. Forget I said anything, please." Dee rolled her eyes, before settling down on the edge of his cot. Absent-mindedly, she toyed with the hem of his hospital gown, staring at the faded blue and white interlocked triangles that sufficed as a 'design'. "I ... " she started, already berating herself for having trouble saying the words. It wasn't as though she wasn't sure in her heart, but after so much loss, another one, no matter how minor in the grand scheme of her life -- it still stung. But only a little. "Lee and I," she finally said, correcting herself. "We decided that it's not going to work out for us."

Felix looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry, Dee. I truly am."

She shrugged. "I don't think it was ever in the cards for us. Not for lack of trying, but ... " Her fingers curled into the thin cloth. "I'm not Kara Thrace and that's what the problem has always been. Since the beginning. It's not anyone's fault; I guess it's like you said. We're just the playthings of fate and Lee and I? We're not fated to be together." Raising her eyes, she smiled wanly at him. "But not being fated doesn't spell automatic doom, does it?"

"Of course not," he said, his cheeks flushed. He was having trouble meeting her eyes. "But I'm sorry nonetheless."

"Don't be," she replied firmly. She cupped his cheek with her hand, gently forcing him to look at her. "Whatever is meant to be, will be. And right now, I'm feeling rather meant to be right here. With you."

Above them, the klaxon speaker blared to life, Helo's voice calling all on board to action stations. Dee immediately rose, as Felix tried to shove off his blankets, even as Ishay returned to push him back down. "Nurse, I am _not_ staying ..." he growled, but Dee didn't hear the rest as she was running down the CIC, hoping against hope the Cylons weren't ready for war before they were.

Because she had a new life to live, a life with Felix and she wasn't going to be denied that, Fate and its cold heart be damned.

0o0o0o0o0But it was the Cylons and Dee took her place on _Galactica's_ bridge, nervously tapping her nails against the main console. It was too soon for this, they weren't ready and she couldn't stop looking at the DRADIS where three Raiders danced over the screen, barely distracted even when Gaeta walked onto the bridge, his uniform still unbuttoned at the neck. His fingers worked to fix that before he saluted Adama. "Sir."

"Mr. Gaeta," Adama intoned gravely, staring along at the DRADIS with Dualla. "Our conflict is starting a little earlier than expected. What do you suggest we do?"

Felix placed his hands behind his back, looking thoughtfully at the readouts. "I'd say there's no time like the present to put Captain Thrace's plan into effect."

Adama glanced at him over the top of his glasses as Dee stood by, confused. It was obvious she'd been left out of a meeting or ten, probably taking place in the sick bay itself while she was asleep. "You mean that insane rambling from a woman who's obviously lost her marbles?"

"Not so insane, sir. If I can explain ..." Gaeta said, politely, even as a basestar made its appearance, followed by another, causing a declaration of Condition One. "Starbuck's plan makes sense. If we've learned anything living among the Cylons, there's one thing they firmly believe about us." He paused until the klaxon's din receded somewhat. "They are convinced we don't understand the nature of sacrifice. That we are unwilling to commit ourselves to any causes higher than our own survival. What we need to do is show them that this isn't the case, that we are willing to throw down anything and everything to defeat them and bring our people home. It'll be what they least expect."

"If I might ask, sir, what is Kara's plan?" Dualla asked, an itch of dread snaking over skin.

Adama's mouth pinched tightly as he answered. "To give them a house-warming present they'll never forget." He nodded at Gaeta. "Tell Starbuck we're ready when she is."

Gaeta saluted again. "Yes, sir." He took the phone held out by Helo and murmured, "Captain Thrace, this is actual."

Kara's voice crackled back over the 'com. "Go ahead, _Galactica_."

"Please listen carefully," he whispered slowly into the receiver. "Yet death will be but a pause. I repeat ... yet death will be but a pause."

It was strange, but Dualla could almost _see_ Kara's mad smile as she finished the coded order. "For the peace of my years in the long green grass will be yours and yours and yours. Got it, LT."

"Good hunting," he said, hanging up the 'com link. He nodded at Adama. "It's away."

Adama nodded toward the assembled crew. He looked smaller than usual, Dualla thought, especially without Tigh at his side. But if this plan was meant to get the colonists back, maybe Tigh would still be among the living and could be brought back aboard. For all their sakes, she hoped so. "Brace for possible concussion impact," Adama ordered, as on the DRADIS, the _Pegasus_ went into an odd drift, headed like an arrow, straight toward the nearest basestar as from its rear, a group of Raptors and Vipers quickly launched and departed for the _Galactica_.

"Sir," she gasped, as the _Pegasus_ showed no signs of slowing down. "Sir, the _Pegasus_ is adrift. Isn't there any crew on board?"

"No," Adama replied, his throat working. "This is the nature of sacrifice, Lieutenant. Remember it."

"But ... sir ..." she began, only to be cut off by the horror of watching the _Pegasus_'s massive bulk ram into the basestar, exploding the outerframe on contact. She felt Gaeta's hand on the small of her back, helping her brace against the console when four massive secondary explosions followed. Nuclear bombs, she thought dully, as the _Galactica_ rocked violently, nearly throwing them to the floor. That was the basestar holding the nuclear bombs, the ones they'd threatened to decimate New Caprica with if the human race refused to surrender and gods, the _Pegasus_ ... that was her and Lee's ship and nothing could have been a more appropriate symbol of their parting than the sight of the great battlestar falling and burning away in massive embers, never to be recovered.

The second basestar made a feeble attempt to steer away, but it was caught up in the fiery chaos emanating from its sister ship and slowly fell to pieces, as the _Galactica's_ massive guns took care of the rest. Raiders spun way in death spirals throughout the sky, as Kara howled in triumph, the blazing guns of her Viper echoing over the open 'com. Dualla knew who those cries were for and knew they were a closure all Kara's own. Nothing would stand in her and Lee's way now, Dualla thought, as Felix's hand covertly grasped her own.

Nothing would stand in their way either. Ever again.

Soon the DRADIS showed nothing but Colonial contacts, milling through the sky, out of formation, the confusion of the battle still upon them. A moment later, they fell into a perfect "V" and headed back to the ship. Adama took off his glasses and rubbed them clean before turning to Felix. "It's time to bring our people home, Mr. Gaeta. Begin the jump."

"Yes, sir," Felix nodded and ran for the FTL key, as Dualla shook off her shock and started the jump set up, making sure all the Vipers and Raptors were safely aboard. It was surreal, but something in the back of her mind was crying out in celebration. _We did it. _She glanced over at Felix and saw her own elation reflected in his shining features and she wondered if it were possible to love someone any more than she did him at that moment.

_We did it. We really did it._

0o0o0o0o0

The promotion ceremony was short, but sweet, as Felix received his captain pins at the same time Kara was promoted to "Major Thrace." With the loss of his commander position aboard the _Pegasus_, Lee was, in effect, demoted to back to Major, but he didn't seem to mind in the least, smiling and clapping sincerely along with the entire _Galactica_ CIC as the ranks were handed out.

He'd lost weight recently, turning back into his trim, fighting self and happiness practically gleamed from his eyes, especially when Starbuck turned to wink at him, her eyes a little misty as she nervously ran her thumbs along the new pins shining from her cuffs. There had been a lot of tears lately, as the crew spent most of their time welcoming the traumatized, much depleted remnants of humanity back aboard the fleet after their rescue from New Caprica. Tigh was alive, much to Adama's relief and for a man who hadn't been the most popular officer during his tenure, he certainly received a greeting brimming with affection when he returned to duty.

Adama had also been glad to see the newly re-instated President Roslin, if his very public, very passionate, embrace of her was any indication. That rumor mill would work overtime on that subject and they both seemed amused enough by it to let the talking go without rebuttal.

It was quite the relief, Laura Roslin said, to have something human to gossip about.

Everyone was happy, in a strange way. Happy to be free, to be together and to be alive ... for now.

Dee wondered how long this relative euphoria would last. Not long, she guessed, as they were running dangerously low on everything, especially food. New Caprica hadn't been the land of milk and honey once envisioned, its hard soil yielding next to nothing in edible stores, at least nothing they could put away and use in the long run. Water was not quite as bad, but that was a situation that would have be remedied again at some point along the way.

Still, they'd made it so far and later that evening when Felix danced her around the room during the promotion party, she tried not to think about anything except being with him and smiling at his terrible dancing, which was as endearing as his laughter, which he shared freely with her. New Caprica had changed him; of that there was no doubt. Left behind were edges that were still hard, still unsettling when they showed up in a quiet moment; in a faraway look ... a strange twist of his mouth ... but for the most part, he seemed at peace.

For herself, she'd grown, as a woman and an officer and for the first time Anastasia Dualla thought that maybe, somewhere, her father was proud of her. Maybe.

"I just stepped on your foot again, didn't I?" Felix asked over the loud music, mistaking her wistful look for physical pain. "Sorry, Dee. Next time, you should wear your boots."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't. I was wandering."

"Don't do that," Felix said, shaking his head and pulling her closer, as if he were afraid she'd actually disappear somewhere. "There's nowhere good to go. I think we both know that by now."

Dualla rested her cheek against his shoulder. "There's nowhere for me but here." The music finally turned to something slow and sensual and while Felix wasn't much of a stepper, he handled gentle swaying with impressive skill. She closed her eyes and let his warmth wash over her, enjoying the weight of his hands on her hips ... his breath against her cheek. "What do you think about getting out of here and going somewhere ... quieter? Your quarters, maybe?"

Felix went still for a few seconds, before grabbing her hand and taking the fastest leave from a party Dualla had ever seen. She laughed out loud as they flew down the hallways, her dress shoes clipping against the metal walkways. His hands fumbled at the keypad at his door and once inside, he hesitated, but only for a moment, as Dee took it upon herself to back him against the closed door, licking her way into his mouth, enjoying his squirms and groans.

It's fun being in charge, she thought, yanking at his jacket, pulling it back and down his shoulder, nipping at the flesh exposed. There were scars there, scars from too many months of suffering and she kissed them reverently, before pulling away and tugging him toward the rack. He followed without protest, letting her bowl him onto the mattress, only complaining when she didn't allow him to undress her. "Relax," she ordered, smiling. "That's an order, Captain."

"Yes, sir," he murmured, biting at his lower lip. He looked so young , flushed and alive, and Dualla felt her throat tighten, just a little. She kissed him again, feeling her insides melting, blood thrumming down her belly, until ... _gods_. It became a tangled race then to see how fast she could shuck both their clothing without getting trapped by it and she succeeded, mostly, with only one tank still dangling from his wrist.

Not that it mattered, as her hands were pinning his to the bedding and he arched underneath her as she kissed her way down his chest. "Dee!" he whispered loudly, a little panicked sounding and she wondered exactly _how_ much sex he'd managed to get into his preoccupied life, but that didn't matter because he was going to get a lot more of it, starting now. 

He felt so _good_ beneath her, hard and aching for her, and she rocked her hips down, grinding wetly against him, making him yelp. It was too easy almost, to bring her leg up and lower herself onto him, watching his face as she pushed down, his eyes widening, then shutting with pleasure. His hands stroked at her thighs and when his fingers somehow worked their way in-between them, rolling and pinching at her clit, she lost track of what she was doing, becoming so tight and hot and it was impossible to focus ... to do anything but _move_. "Frak ... " she gasped, as another wave of trembling heat moved through her. "Oh frak, that's it. Please ..." she begged, and he obliged, grasped at her hips and bringing her down hard onto him.

"I love you," he said, breathlessly, but his eyes were so serious. "I have _always_ loved you."

"Gods ..."

"Always," he whispered again. "The life that I have is yours. Only yours."

That was it, Dualla couldn't think anymore and the spiraling heat throbbed down, making her hips snap forward in orgasm and it was like sunshine, a burst of white hot light everywhere, making her cry out his name. He arched up wildly a moment afterwards, pulling her down to him, nuzzling and nipping hard at her shoulder, hard enough to mark. She didn't mind ... didn't care ... they'd already marked each other, both, for life.

There was quiet kissing then, as she pulled off and settled down into his arms, running her fingers over the tattoo on his chest. More kisses and he brushed the sweat-damp hair away from her face, looking thoughtfully at her. "I could get used to this," he said, with a wry smile. "I never would have thought I'd prefer floating around in this bucket to life on a new planet."

"Mmmm," she replied, nuzzling her cheek against his palm, her heart still taking its time in slowing down. "That planet might have been a bad example. A better one might show up at some point."

"That's all right, I'm good with waiting for Earth," he replied, snuggling closer with a sigh.

"How far away is that again? Supposedly?"

"Between fifteen hundred and three thousand light years," he replied sleepily. "Give or take a decade or two."

Entwining their fingers together, Dualla closed her eyes. "That sounds like a good trip to take together."

He chuckled softly and she drifted off beside him, soon dreaming of stars and flight and his face, reflecting her smile, brighter than any planet's sun. It was so good to be home -- truly home -- at last.


End file.
